“Hi, I’m a Very Important Writer... Busy Later?”
by Conrad Kochek
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In some places (Chicago, or say, Winnipeg) one can impress the opposite sex by pretending to be a TV actor or pro athlete. In New York, however, pretending to be a hot young author will actually get you more phone numbers than, say, a racecar driver. It’s the perfect crime, authorial visibility is low, advances to unknown writers are high… And if you’re going to try it, these are the bars for you.
1 Barbès
376 9th St, Park Slope
When you think about all the successful authors in Park Slope, you might think you don’t stand a chance. Not the case. They’re all out on book tours, or in their country homes writing novels. Go on, fill the void.
2 The Dorothy Parker Society Woolworth Building
(Sept 16)
In an environment where everyone is kind of pretending to be a famous writer maybe you don’t need to pretend? Maybe this is the one place you can be yourself? Naw. Pretend to be Will Rogers, at least he was fun.
3 White Horse
567 Hudson Ave
Sure, it’s filled with hedge fund frat boys, most of whom think Dylan Thomas is a catching prospect in the Yankees farm system, but every now and then, a starry-eyed “literary” tourist will happen by, looking for a little magic. Be that magic, be the romantic poet, get laid.
4 Siberia
356 W. 40th St.
Next to Port Authority and, if possible, even skeevier. Which is probably why embittered journos gravitate here, to commiserate over lousy freelance gigs and, perhaps, bask in the reflected glory of a pipe dream fulfilled. Which is where you come in.
5 KGB
85 E. 4th St.
Hotshots congregate here for the latest readings from literary journals with names like Snicketyboo. These events are dull, so everybody gets really drunk. You could pretend to be Herman Melville for all anybody would know the difference.
1 Barbès
376 9th St, Park Slope
When you think about all the successful authors in Park Slope, you might think you don’t stand a chance. Not the case. They’re all out on book tours, or in their country homes writing novels. Go on, fill the void.
2 The Dorothy Parker Society Woolworth Building
(Sept 16)
In an environment where everyone is kind of pretending to be a famous writer maybe you don’t need to pretend? Maybe this is the one place you can be yourself? Naw. Pretend to be Will Rogers, at least he was fun.
3 White Horse
567 Hudson Ave
Sure, it’s filled with hedge fund frat boys, most of whom think Dylan Thomas is a catching prospect in the Yankees farm system, but every now and then, a starry-eyed “literary” tourist will happen by, looking for a little magic. Be that magic, be the romantic poet, get laid.
4 Siberia
356 W. 40th St.
Next to Port Authority and, if possible, even skeevier. Which is probably why embittered journos gravitate here, to commiserate over lousy freelance gigs and, perhaps, bask in the reflected glory of a pipe dream fulfilled. Which is where you come in.
5 KGB
85 E. 4th St.
Hotshots congregate here for the latest readings from literary journals with names like Snicketyboo. These events are dull, so everybody gets really drunk. You could pretend to be Herman Melville for all anybody would know the difference.
