Simple like a cup of black coffee
coffee coffee coffee
Daily Post is needed late at night, but I am still waiting for something to come.
A conversation with my brother John sparks something. An idea so obvious, I'm surprised it took this long to percolate:
My writing should be like black coffee: simple, strong, a little bitter, but with hidden sweetness.
This thought, born from a casual chat, feels right. It connects me to something deeper, something familiar.
I learned to love black coffee from my Nana. Every morning, without fail, two things filled her house: the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft rustle of pages turning. She'd sit there, bible or Western romance novel in hand, sipping from a mug of Folgers.
"Drink it black," she'd tell me. "Start your day with a little bitterness. Makes everything else taste sweeter."
When my Nana passed, her old coffee maker went with her. My grandfather couldn't understand it, but I did. How else would she make her morning brew in heaven?
I make drip coffee every morning—for myself and my wife. It's become my ritual, connection to Nana, writing, and life.
I want my words to be that dependable. That real. Something you can count on, like the sunrise or the first sip of coffee that jolts you awake.
But perfect coffee and good writing don't happen by accident. They take practice, patience, and a willingness to experiment.
Sometimes, the brew is too bitter - like when I rant without purpose. Sometimes, it's too weak - when I shy away from hard truths. But with each attempt, I get closer to that perfect balance.
I'm still learning, still brewing. I am adjusting the grind of my words, the temperature of my tone, and the steeping time of my ideas. I am searching for that perfect recipe that speaks to me and, hopefully, to you.
Ultimately, I hope my writing can be like that perfect cup of black coffee - honest, a little rough around the edges, but capable of making your day just a bit better.
Who would have thought a simple chat by the pool could lead to this? But that's the beauty of it. Ideas, like the best coffee, often come when you least expect them. They need a moment to brew.
Until tomorrow
John D



"Drink it black," she'd tell me. "Start your day with a little bitterness. Makes everything else taste sweeter."
Love your grandmother’s words.
Thanks.
This whole excerpt is like as smith sip of light roast my guy ☕️
“I'm still learning, still brewing. I am adjusting the grind of my words, the temperature of my tone, and the steeping time of my ideas. I am searching for that perfect recipe that speaks to me and, hopefully, to you.”