Tripio The Novel

How I wrote my novel, and how I can help you write yours

I was home and still in work clothes and trying to get dinner going when my neighbor dropped in to ask if she could borrow a hammer for a quick project she was doing at her place right next door. What the Hell does this have to do with Tripio  Well, my neighbor was the person who invited me to classes at the Indy SOM (School of Metaphysics) and I was thinking about her a lot yesterday because I needed to confirm the date of my first class there for the previous blog. It was a coincidence that she stopped over since I had not seen her in a month or so. Nonsense! It was not. There is no such thing as coincidence.

Does that mean that I somehow summoned my neighbor to my house to provide the date I needed? No. I could have texted but remembered she recently lost her phone. When I asked, she knew the date right away, even if it was well over two years ago. What the incident means, to me, is that, over the last couple years my thoughts have become aligned with my true intentions. In other words, I am now directed by my thoughts, not Flo’s from Progressive or the Lizard from Gieco. No, they are no longer welcome in my Mind Garden. GTF out. If it is not becoming clear that Tripio is simply a result of a clear and focused mind, my Mind Garden in full bloom, then that is my fault. Or you simply may have to read more. Didn’t I warn you in blog number 1 that this will take some time?

From here I could go down any number of rabbit holes, or snakes holes or worm holes. But I do not want to go astray, previous sentence excepted. My point being is that the disciplined and focused attention of my mind, without a doubt was more responsible for creating Tripio than any other factor including talent, literary acumen, classes taken, books read, seminars attended. That list goes on and on.

As much as I’d like to go on and on, I have to get to work. Not a bad thing, as you will see in future blogs. For, it was going to work and at times, turning my brain and 5 senses off, that I was able to discover and confirm how my subconscious mind works. Later as I grew to trust my subconscious mind, I would intentionally “give it to my subconscious mind” when I needed to recall the name of a Starbucks partner from 25 years ago. It almost always provided the answer when it was ready. Which in turn was how I was able to write so much of Tripio while at work, and not here at my desk on my laptop, which I have to close now.

“May I help who’s next?”

    Yesterday my daughter spent some time on the internet trying to find an English version of a French Starbucks documentary she had seen on a flight home for the holidays. It was called “Starbucks Unfiltered” and she could find the French version, but nothing with English subtitles. A little bit later, as we watched some football, she and I saw a commercial for Starbucks.

This morning, I came across this:

My question this morning over my cup of coffee (not telling whose) is, “When did this happen”?

In my job I go to approximately two dozen workplaces a day. There I see every shape, size and design of Starbucks coffee travel mugs. I see Starbucks mugs that don’t travel. I see lots of Starbucks coffee drinks in hands, in trash cans and recycling bins. I was even recently offered an extra Starbucks drink bought for a person who wasn’t going to make the meeting. I opened the lid first and saw there was milk or cream already added and politely had to turn it down. The next day in a medical office I overheard the staff discussing their coffee preferences vis a vis Starbucks. Their opinions were moons of coffee orbiting around the coffee planet Starbucks. In other words, Starbucks is now coffee and vice versa.



    At the end of my tenure at Starbucks in the mid 1990s I recall once seeing a Starbucks commercial on a TV screen in a Chicago bar. I was having some beers, the bar was loud and I could not hear the audio but I think the commercial showed a monkey using a French Press coffee brewer. Maybe I was also doing some shots. Anyway the point is, that pretty much after I left that bar on Broadway in Lakeview, I tuned out Starbucks. I had to. I was starting to raise a family and very soon free time would be a thing of the past.

   There is no mention of Starbucks TV commercials or anything of the like in Tripio . Jay’s observations of the growth of the company he works for is for more anecdotal. In Tripio Jay notices “a Cosmodemonic cup in the trash at the bus stop or crushed along the curb” as an indicator that his place of employment is doing more and more business. Mostly Jay lives the “word of mouth” growth of Starbucks via the intensely busy Saturday and Sunday morning shifts at the various stores he was working.

    More that two decades after leaving that bar in Chicago and seeing my kids become young adults I again have found some free time. If I choose to use some of that time to meet a friend at my nearest Starbucks, I always take in the lines and the mise en scene. I think that it is never as busy as when Jay (me, duh) worked there. But when I leave my local Starbucks I leave with good memories of the days when I was behind the counter. And on the way to car, I always toss my empty cup down to the curb for old times’ sake.


                         “May I help who is next?”

   “Just saw Taxi Blues at the glorious Music Box Theatre. There were women speaking Russian in the lobby.”

That is an excerpt from my Sketchbook of the Mind that I began on October 4, 1990. It is the first journal, or SotM, of the years I lived in Chicago. Those journals and many entries just like the one above are the backbone of Tripio. That particular entry did not make it into Tripio, though reading it now I am forced to consider why it didn’t. Especially as it concludes several lines later with a mention of the “Kati” character in the book.

I just read the entire entry again and am almost angry at myself for not including it in Tripio. The entry mentions work and loneliness. I know where I would have written it into Tripio. I may have simply missed it as I combed through the three or four journals that I used extensively to first generate, then populate Tripio . I may have simply put the journal down and stepped away to grab another cup of coffee or put a load of laundry in the dryer, came back to my desk, absentmindedly turned the page, and that was it.

   If I had found that entry I may have started a paragraph with it. I may have used only that line or maybe used the entire entry. Or, I may have parsed the entry out and used a sentence here or there. I am not second guessing myself and Tripio is no worse for not using it. In this expert, Jay, the main character in Tripio, waves to the Russian women just as they turn away from him. He had taken Russian in college. He wanted a connection to someone. His next thought is that he wants to go to his apartment and “sleep on the floor and I don’t care if the place needs to be cleaned”.

Hmmmm. Maybe I can put it in Tripio. I am now clearly second guessing myself. After all, that flexibility is part of the appeal of direct publishing. But where would it end? Too scary to contemplate right now. However, the excerpt does capture Jay’s state of mind and being for the first third of Tripio. He is lonely and living in Chicago and Kati is on his mind. He has found places to go like the Music Box theatre but lacks something. Something is missing in his life.

I can only hope that the reader can “feel” that excerpt as they read Tripio. After all, the book is finished. Damn. They will get it won’t they?  There are lots of other entries in Tripio and they will connect the reader to Jay. Right?

                                             “May I help who’s next?”

I got up this morning at 4:59, having set an intention to use my journals as the subject for today’s post. There would be no Tripio without my journals, or Sketchbooks of the Mind, or SotMs, if you’re into the whole brevity thing. Sitting down with a cup of coffee at the downstairs computer, I tried to open my on-line bank account before starting to write.  It wanted me to register the device. I almost didn’t click. But I did and a code was sent to my phone. I retrieved my phone from the table across the dining room. The code required a dash but apparently the dash key on this computer didn’t work. I tried anyway. The cloud didn’t want to play. I quit the game.

I only go into that tedious communal experience to point out how easy it is to get sidetracked in writing. The physical part of that took maybe two minutes. But, it took a lot longer to get back to a point where I was ready to start writing again. I had to do a few of last night’s dishes, fearlessly check my bank account on the unregistered device, and jot down a few must do’s in my planner. In addition, I made an entry in my current SotM and had some buttered toast. In other words, I had to weed my mind garden from that earlier unwanted growth. Only after all that was I ready to sit down to begin this post. Now, where was I?

Image taken from:

Oh yes. The subject of today’s post: SotMs. Tripio takes place in the summer of 1992, the year of the Starbucks Initial Public Offering of its stock. The protagonist, Jay, has been working for Starbucks full time for over two years by this point, is fully vested and receives the maximum amount of those options his position and duration with the company mandates. Do that math and that stock today is worth…a lot. But remember, I want you to buy Tripio to find out exactly how much.

I wrote and kept many SotMs during those years at Starbucks. Like the Starbucks stock I no longer owned, those journals accumulated value as they sat in boxes, tucked under beds and into closets over the past 25 years. The SotMs survived a flooded basement, escaped being thrown away, outlasted indifference and simply survived being forgotten about. They survived for all those reasons because they were clearly meant to become Tripio.

“May I help who’s next?”

I do the vast majority of my writing before nine a.m. When I “novelized” Tripio it took me approximately 52 hours. Again, the vast majority of it was done between four and nine a.m. I worked on it on some mornings when I had to be in to work by six thirty. There are a million reasons why I find morning writing productive.

The first one is now that I don’t have get young children off to their own days, I have re-connected with the calm beauty of the early morning. I even enjoy the time of day called “God’s left hand”: the hour of pre-dawn when you can hear the birds in the warm weather, but not see them. I will get back to all that in later posts. Today, I just wanted to write one sentence for a post. That is what I told myself. Get to the laptop and write one sentence. I compare it to the bargain I make with myself when I don’t feel like dragging my ass to the gym for some cardio and resistance. I tell myself to just get there, you aren’t preparing for a decathlon, so just get there. And typically, I do that. I make it to the cross-trainer and about 15 minutes after that, my body and mind are feeling just dandy.

As you have read above, the one sentence was written. Just as experience has taught me, I found what I was looking for: the actual subject for today’s post. Here it is: I have one of the best practices that anyone can honor if they are planning to write any piece of any length. My own journey has told me that it ain’t “read the classics”. It ain’t get an MFA in Creative Writing. It ain’t attend readings or workshops. It ain’t none of that. If that writing project is going to get finished, you can’t wait for inspiration, you can’t expect genius to wake you up and get you going. The best way to finish your project is this: write when you don’t want to. Make yourself do the ugly, gritty dirty work of writing. And writing some more. That is what worked for me to date. A lot of the times I began a productive stretch of writing because I told myself I would be happy just getting one Tripio sentence out of me and onto the screen or paper. It worked for Tripio and it worked just now.

“May I help who’s next?”

“Dad. Dad! Its back on.”  It was my daughter trying to get my attention. I had muted the sound of the college football game I was watching while reading “The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction.” by Alan Jacobs  (Link to Book on Amazon). I am not sure what Alan Jacobs would make of what I just described.

Anyway, the quote I picked out of “Pleasures” was, “To publish a book is to invite a response.” Of the many wisdoms to pick out and blog about from that book, I chose it because this morning I received a response to Tripio . A response to the prologue anyway.

The response comes from an employee of Starbucks who works for their legal department in Seattle. She has been a sounding board for Tripio through my brother in law, a lawyer also living in Seattle. She had read the first ten pages of Tripio many months and many edits ago. I recall getting her response to that early version and hearing positive, uplifting things. I was excited and pleased to hear that she would be interested in reading more of the book. That was in January.

Since then the emotional stakes have been raised. Tripio has become something altogether different to me. I don’t want to seem too precious in the comparison of Tripio to a child. But, here goes: In January Tripio was my 5 year old still at the house and getting praised a lot for just being who they were. Now, Tripio has been on the bus to school and is getting graded by complete strangers. Strangers with opinions and influence. These strangers hold the power to respond to Tripio and thus affect my emotions, thoughts, and hopes regarding its future. The email I read this morning from the Starbucks lawyer was greatly appreciated and it’s something I’m going to have to get used to. I invited a response, got it, but I am not sure how I feel about sending Tripio back to school on Monday.

“May I help who’s next?”

    I published my novel, Tripio, on Amazon on April 11th. Exactly how did this happen??

    If you found this blog hoping to find help with writing your own novel, you have come to the right place. If you are hoping for some quick and easy bullets points to help you slap out a book in a couple months, then perhaps, you have not. Not that I know anything for certain. I only know what worked for me. So, for those who are willing to stick around, I believe the origin story of Tripio, will inspire and fortify you along your own, unique path to writing your book. Ready? Then, let us begin around 28 years ago….

   I had been trying to write a series of short stories based on images from the front of old postcards I had received over the years. I had a shoe box full of them and the stories would be called –wait for it– Postcards. It wasn’t working.

   Before I go any farther, I have to point out that I had been meditating 3 or 4 times a week during these days of early spring. I had also established a “sacred space” in my garage, where I would retreat to do Yoga and Meditate. In addition, I had also become a practitioner of disciplining and utilizing the mind as taught by The School of Metaphysics. Find a school near you…


   I woke up at 4:52 a.m. on the morning I would start what would become, but was not yet, Tripio. It was a Tuesday morning in the spring on 2017. I noted in my current journal that “Chicago Days” is calling me. In the process of sorting through all the old postcards, I had also recovered dozens of pages of old type written notes and observations I had written while I was living in Chicago in the early 1990s. That morning, I headed to work as usual. I did not yet even consider that I had discovered the core notes for what would become Tripio. I did not yet realize that the mind I had been disciplining and cultivating, had other plans for me.

“May I help who’s next?”

In Tripio, Jay works at a Starbucks (called the Cosmodemonic Coffee Company in the novel for reasons I just covered in a previous post) store located near Lincoln Park on the corner of Clark, Diversey and Broadway. In Tripio, for the sake of brevity and authenticity, I refer to it simply as store #204. It was already beat up and worn out when Jay arrives there as the new Lead Clerk. But the store had character. And since his co-workers were mostly aspiring to make a living at one art form or another, Jay felt he fit right in. There are several passages in the book when Jay states that he feels at home at #204. He finds comfort settling back in there for a shift after returning to the city from a trip downstate: “ I had spent too much time here not to treat #204 as a home away from home”

So, it was no shock that I had a strong desire to go back and revisit store #204. I also wanted to look again on the Days Inn that stood diagonally and across the street from #204. There were many, many nights I closed #204 and had to get back to open for a morning shift. If I closed, I locked that door after midnight. If I opened the next morning, it was at 5:30 or 6 a.m. The Days Inn stood just across the street on those nights, calling me, tempting me. A shower and bed was just minutes away. My apartment was a long bus ride up Clark. It could take close to an hour before a shower and bed there. I would then have to make the return trip on almost no sleep. All that could be fixed by a night at the Days Inn. But no money, no way.  

Photo Cred:

As summer 2017 arrived I took the opportunity to drive to Chicago and see both places. I wanted to confirm the details of #204. After all, it had been 20 plus years since the last time I left it’s doors. My trip to Chicago was also a gift for my daughter. She was headed to college in the fall and we went together as a going away present. That is why I did no research on whether #204 still existed. I was going anyway.

Not surprisingly #204 was no more. If it is true that you can’t go home again, at least you have a shot if it still standing. I could visualize where it stood in the new collection of storefronts that had taken over the whole building that housed and surrounded #204. I can’t say I was crushed or even surprised. I could still hear the thud of the filter basket hitting the bar across the dump bucket positioned on either end of the espresso bar. I could hear the grinders clicking on and the shriek of the hot steaming wand entering the cold milk. All that was still in my mind.

As I think it over now, perhaps not having a physical confirmation of #204 made me work harder to recreate #204 in Tripio. I had to work to rebuild it, and I did.  Look for proof when you read Tripio in the scene where Jay dusts off an “order here” sign that hung unnoticed by almost every customer and most partners who had ever entered #204.

So, the trip worked, just not in the way I anticipated. One thing that did work out more to plan was that I finally got to stay at the Days Inn. Now it is called The Versey but the ghost of the Days Inn was still there. And it was put to rest. But best of all, my daughter and I had a grand time in Chicago…

“May I help who’s next?”

I saw it today. It happened at a chance meeting with the artist who is doing the cover art for my first novel, Tripio . I loved it of course. What I saw was a mock up for the cover of my book. My name was on the cover. It looked like a real book from a bookstore or online page. My name was on it. My name as the author of a novel.

 I spent a good deal of the rest of the day going about my blue collar job. From time to time I tried to recall when I first I dreamed of being a writer. My oldest surviving effort is a cartoon entitled “Fishy Man”, a fish that resembled a carp and who changed into a superhero after saying a few magic words.

Fishy Man never made a splash, so to speak, but the desire, wish, hope, dream of being a writer stayed with me. I can’t recall waking up one morning and telling my mom I wanted to become a writer. Nothing so easily pinpointed as that. At least, I had always kept a journal.

I first started keeping journals in 1987. I refer to them when I need to find something, often something I hadn’t shared with anyone before. I’m sure there exists somewhere, a few pages in a small notebook which pinpoints the day when my hope of becoming a writer was re-born on dry land. Until that turns up, I will use the 30 plus journals I still have as confirmation of that hope.

The journals themselves were ,and still are, way more than lined paper dream catchers. They can be source material for whatever you want them to be. For me, they were also companions for the years I lived alone in Chicago, trying to finish a novel and working at a little known coffee company called Starbucks.

“May I help who’s next?”

“I’m sittin’ in first class and they can all kiss my ass, ‘cuase I’m goin’ back baby, back outta world.”

          Terry Allen & The Panhandle Mystery Band – Back Out Of The World – 1987 album – Amerasia

      In Tripio , Jay is writing his first novel. It is a road book. One of Jay’s literary heroes in Tripio is Jack “That’s not writing, that’s typing” Kerouac. It is in character for Jay to have attempted his first novel based on the two month road trip he had taken as part of his aimless post college graduation life. Tripio starts with Jay nearing the end of writing the novel. He is not exactly struggling with the ending of it. After all, it is finite. The book will end with end of journal he kept for its duration. Jay is confronted more by the fact that he is afraid he doesn’t even know what the book is about.

   In real life, that was also true. Today, I describe “Back Outta the World” as a road trip in which the main character’s mind and body are on two different trips and meet at the end. I only came to that conclusion as I reworked Back outta the World(BotW) prior to starting Tripio. I arrived at that conclusion approximately 20 years after I finished physically writing BotW. You will have to buy and read Tripio to find that section describing how I felt upon finishing BotW . I will tell you that it is one of the few parts of Tripio that remains word for word in the novel, as it was recorded in my journal on that day in my apartment those many years ago.

         If I am promoting and publishing Tripio as a Starbucks novel, reflecting on it daily now as the story of my early adult life, then I am writing about my writing twice over. In other words there could be no Tripio without BotW. Yet, I was hesitant at first to even name it. Early in the writing of Tripio, I referred to it as my writing or the novel. Then, as I began to feel confident and came to see potential in the marketing of Tripio, I made it a point to name and embed BotW into Tripio. In fact, I had too. In order for Tripio to “work” (you be the judge), BotW had to be a powerful, named presence in Jay’s mind. It had to be identified so that it could carry it’s third of the book.

    I believe it worked out. Again, you be the judge. Either way, I hope to find a path to publishing BotW at some point after Tripio. That would be the least Tripio could do for BotW since Tripio would not have come to be without it.

                                   “May I help who’s next?”