Playaday: About Coffee

#61—Write about coffee


A playwright 


A study. The playwright sits at the desk, drinking coffee. There is an electric drip-pot in easy reach.


(Staring at screen.)

Okay. A play about coffee. Sounds stupid to me, but at least it will pay. Who’d have thought that a coffee roaster would pay me to write a whole play about coffee? Huh. Featuring him. And his wife and his brother-in-law and his obnoxious teen-aged daughter. Well, okay. I can do this. Ten thousand bucks is ten thousand bucks, even though it feels like selling out. Let’s see now

(Types while talking.)


A Coffee Roaster. Forty-ish, tall, handsome. Jeans and a buffalo-check shirt.

Wife.  Slim, blonde ponytail. Fleece and spandex and expensive running shoes.

Brother-in-law:   (Sits back and stares at the screen.)

Okay. That’s all type cast, right? They’re just playing themselves here. And if I were to do the slacker brother-in-law, he’d be an asshole, because he is. Okay. Redo. Let’s see.  

(Types again.) 


An asshole. No. Come on. Think ten thousand bucks.  Characters. Miranda: Teenager. Blue mohawk, tattoos, torn jeans. Coffee addict. Paula: her mother. Plump, tired, mom jeans and sweatshirt with sequins. Jeff: her father. A coffee roaster. Shabby, unshaven but not in a cool way. Brad: her uncle—mother’s brother. A Guy in a Suit who wants to take over the coffee business.

(Sits back.) Nope. That would work, wouldn’t it? As a play? But not as a ten thousand dollar production about the company. Okay. Third time’s the charm.



A King. Forty-ish, tall, handsome. Fairy-tale style robes and crown. A Queen:  Fairy tale style. A Princess: Dressed like a princess but with bare feet. A Knight: Heavy armor, with a mask. 

(Sits back.)

Ha! That way I get to see him clunking around. Good. And, let’s see. The barefoot princess will discover coffee bushes and the King will wonder what to do with them and the Queen will figure out how to roast the beans and the Knight will clank around. Or maybe he could be a jester instead? Okay. Work, work. Ten thousand dollars, here we come.

(Starts typing.)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.