Writing in Public; A Personal History

My current office is a public library in Harlem. I come in the afternoon, and this is where I do some of my writing. I can get some work done in the morning, and usually that is when I blog. After lunch, I head out to the library to work on everything else. This situation works well, especially for my wife who works from home. When I head out, that gives her the afternoon alone in the apartment so she can focus and get her work done, as well.

I like my local library. It’s not too big, and is never too crowed either. I can find a space to work, listen to my music, and outside of one guy who clearly is some sort of remote IT specialist which requires him to speak on his phone to clients, it’s rather quite here. (Though I did witness two old guys almost get into an old man fight over who could sit at what table.) There is something nice about being surrounded by books.

I am not the brilliant one who came up with this idea of using the library. It was my wife who suggested that I use the library to work. And she got the idea from our good friend who uses her local library as the place where she writes. I was hesitant at first to do it, but I now admit that was a mistake. I have been rather productive, at least word count wise.

Writing in public is something that I have tried doing, on and off, since high school. Back then, there was a local all-night coffee shop/diner that I could camp at. After high school and in college, I would camp at a local IHOP, and that ended up becoming a hang out with all my friends. Then I turned twenty-one, and started hanging out in bars, which I didn’t write in, as that’s not why you go to a bar.

Then I moved to NYC, and made friends, and one of them owned a bar in Manhattan which I would visit. Trying an effort to be a supportive friend, I would always suggest his bar to other friends as a good place to meet up for a drink. On occasions that I would get to the bar early, and would be waiting on my friends to arrive, I would pull out my journal, and write at the bar to kill time.

I actually felt very comfortable doing it, and soon I started just going to that bar to write in my journal alone. The bar was shaped like an “L” and I would sit at the short part next to the wall, so I could watch the goings on of the long part bar. The staff got to know me, I am sure because I was friends with the owner, and we would converse, but then they would give me some space to work.

Sadly, the pandemic closed down his bar, and I really haven’t been able to find a good replacement.


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