In his book Writing in Restaurants, playwright and screenwriter David Mamet mused:

In a restaurant, one is both observed and unobserved. Joy and sorrow can be displayed and observed “unwittingly,” the writer scowling naively and the diners wondering, What the hell is he doing? Then again, the writer may be truly unobserved, which affects not a jot of the scourge of popular opinion on his overactive mind.

I have to say, I’ve always had a soft spot for David Mamet. Even before I had read any of his work or seen any of his plays or movies, I was indebted to him. Mamet was on the selection committee that chose my play, Inside Al, as the winner of the Henry Fonda Young Playwright Award back in 1987. So … thanks, David!

Weirdly, very little about Writing in Restaurants is about actually writing in restaurants. Maybe that’s because it written way back in 1986. That was before laptops, before wi-fi Internet connections and before most fast-food places shifted from the old “small-medium-large is all you get” model of beverage service to the “buy the size you want and refill it as many times as you like until you walk out the door” plan. Believe me — that’s made all the difference.

The way Mamet describes it, the act of writing in a restaurant is a sort of “performance art.” The creative genius sits there toiling away on his amazing manuscript while others watch in amazement at what he’s doing. They wonder whether he’s penning the Great American Novel or the next big Broadway smash. But that was back in 1986. Today, somebody pecking away at a keyboard in a restaurant is just as likely to be updating his Facebook status or posting a personal ad on Craigslist.

I wrote my master’s thesis almost entirely in a Taco Bell in Provo, UT. This was only possible because I had recently purchased my very first laptop—a PowerBook 520c. The manager of the Taco Bell was the younger brother of one of my good high school buddies, so he didn’t mind me camping out well past closing time, endlessly refilling my cup with Diet Pepsi. Matt would often bring me nachos or those cinnamon twist things, just to be nice. I don’t think I would’ve finished my thesis (and won “Outstanding Thesis Award”) without Matt and his Taco Bell.

Today, I still find myself much more productive when I write in fast food places than when I work at home. In my opinion, the absolute best place to write is a McDonald’s restaurant. They have $1 drinks, cheap food, free wi-fi, and endless people to observe. Honestly, the wi-fi sometimes proves more of a distraction than a help, but there are times when you just need to get online when you’re writing.

For example, if I need details about a place I’m writing about, I simply pull up Google Maps and zoom in on the satellite view. If I need a quick name and identity for a character, I can go to FakeNameGenerator.com to get one at the click of a button. And of course, Wikipedia is always there if I need to know the capital of Sinaloa or the date of “Operation Wetback.”

Because of laptops and wi-fi, performance art has evolved into productive utility, but restaurants (at least the cheap fast food ones) are still my favorite place to produce prose.

Way back in high school, when I started writing seriously, I began carrying a notebook and pen with me everywhere I went. I would jot down random ideas as they came to me, recording story ideas, character sketches and odd musings so I could use them later. You’d be amazed how often a thought would strike you from out of the blue — one that you really need to record before it’s gone (poof!) right out of your head.

I used to call these “idea emergencies.”

I still have all of my old notebooks. One of the story fragments I recorded back in the late 80’s became an integral part of my first recent novel, Drop House, so I’m glad I adopted the practice back then. I started carrying these “tools of the trade” again about a year and a half ago, and have since gone through three different notebooks.

Here’s the one I’m carrying right now:

It’s essentially a miniature version of one of those marble-covered “composition books” we used to use back in school. The reason I use this particular type of book is because the pages are actually stitched into the cover, so the book is less likely to come apart.

You’ll notice that I’ve covered the cardboard cover with duct tape to help keep it from wearing out from too much use. Also, the book has taken on a distinctive “butt shape” because I’ve been carrying it in my left rear pants pocket.

My pen is a Fisher Space Pen. Let me just tell you — if you need to carry a pen with you for any reason, you need to get one of these babies. They’re the perfect tool for all of your “idea emergencies.” There are a few reasons for this:

• The compact metal design means they fit nicely in your pocket. If you try to carry a plastic ballpoint in your front pocket, it’s likely to break and leak ink all over your pants and leg when you sit down. This has actually happened to me.
• Since the Space Pen has a pressurized cartridge, it won’t leak ink out if and when you forget to take the pen out of your pocket when your pants go through the laundry. This has actually happened to me.
• The “ink” a Space Pen uses is actually some kind of tarry stuff that was invented to stay viscous in space, underwater, and in various other environments. Because of this, it won’t wash or run in water. This means that your notes in your notebook will still be readable if your notebook goes through the laundry (after you forget to take it out of your pants). This has actually happened to me.

I really need to get better at remembering stuff. But in the meantime, I rely on my notebook and Space Pen to save my bacon and keep my notes safe.

I use paper clips to divide the pages into sections so I can separate notes for various projects from each other. As you can see, I make no effort to ensure that the notes are readable by anyone by myself.

Having my pen and notebook means I have to carefully segregate everything I carry every day by pocket:

• Front, right pocket: Keys, pen, change, KA-BAR folding knife (on pocket clip)
• Front, left pocket: Cell phone
• Back, right pocket: Wallet
• Back, left pocket: Duct-tape-enhanced notebook

 

In addition, I usually have my nine-millimeter compact pistol and a spare magazine. But that’s for a completely different type of “emergency.”