Coffeehouses and writing

I started this train of thought over at my personal blog Writing Space but wanted to go a little deeper here.

What is it about coffeehouses and writing that go together?


Used to be that coffeehouses, or cafes, were the social centers of the era. In my youth, I recall seeing men seated in the vinyl and chrome booths reading their newspapers and smoking cigarettes while they sipped coffee and dreamed of writing the next bestseller. Yes, they wore Fedoras. Yes, they had trench coats.

In later years, I've witnessed groups of older men ( the same ones perhaps?) gathered around checkered tablecloths to exchange stories, sip their java, and enjoy the company of one another. They didn't seem too interested in writing books, and none of them read a paper. Smoking was delegated to outside the eating area too, so few of them inclined to leave the group for a smoke.

And now, they tend to stay clear of the new trendy sorts of coffeehouses with the endless lists of espresso drinks and specialty sandwiches. Not that I mind, you see, as these places are now my own haunts.

There are no more newspapers to read really, and few sunny spots unless you want to sit outside(patios are all the rage) -- and again, smoking is completely vanquished, but I still haunt them. And I do take my laptop. And I do write. I am the dinosaur still dreaming of that next bestseller.

Keep dreaming, Murderers. Keep sipping that black magic.