Writers in Tokyo in search of an antidote to procrastination and unproductive work practices can now toil in the company of the similarly afflicted, united in their determination to confront the tyranny of the looming deadline.
They can be found at the Manuscript Writing Cafe, which opened in April in the city’s Koenji neighbourhood as a haven for writers, editors, proofreaders, video producers and manga artists – anyone struggling with the distractions of the home or office.
Committing to a specific writing goal is a condition of admission, as is an understanding that leaving in a fit of pique is out of the question before the task at hand has been completed.
The cafe charges 150 Japanese yen ($1.15) for the first 30 minutes and then 300 an hour after that. Although a few people have stayed past the official closing time, they have all eventually finished their work, the proprietor, Takuya Kawai, said.
The snug, 10-seat cafe provides unlimited self-service refills of tea and coffee, high-speed wifi, docking ports and tall chairs that positively discourage slouching or nodding off.
This week, my editors asked me to put the cafe’s unique selling point to the test. Would I while away my two-hour session flitting between a near-empty Word file, email and social media sites, or, as I promised Kawai, make some headway with this article?
Customers must write their name, writing goals and the time they plan to finish. They can also ask Kawai to nag them about their progress. Those who ask for the “mild” option will simply be asked how they got on when they pay at the end of the session; others in need of a heavier dose of discipline can expect him to occasionally stand behind them, although he insists he makes no value judgments on the contents of their laptop screen.
The mild-mannered 52-year-old, who is a technical writer when he is not cajoling his customers to buckle down, dismissed concerns among some social media users that his tactics were heavy-handed.
“Instead of monitoring them, I’m here to support them,” he said. “As a result, what they thought would take a day was actually completed in three hours, or tasks that usually take three hours were done in one.”
Seated to my left, Shizuku Kino conceded that she was struggling. The manga artist had arrived more than two hours earlier, but had so far drawn a blank. “It’s nothing to do with the environment, I just can’t come up with any good ideas at the moment. It’s not that I can’t concentrate … the fact that I haven’t got anything done is my problem.”
Uhyou Kitami, with whom Kino has collaborated on a manga series, was faring better. “I’ve made quite a lot of progress,” she said of her first visit to the cafe. “It’s not that the atmosphere inspires you … once you sit down you have no alternative but to get on with it.”
Kawai, who opened the cafe earlier this month, believes its location on the corner of a busy street is perfectly suited to unleashing torrents of creativity.
“After we opened, I played jazz to drown out the sound of people tapping their keyboards, but in fact the noise from the traffic and people outside is at just the right level for that. You don’t want the absolute silence of a library or home … here people can draw on the energy of the neighbourhood.”
After initial doubts about whether the concept would work in a city packed with themed cafes, he has been taken aback by the response. “People were pleased when they told me they had met their deadline or word count for the day. And that made me happy too.”
My two hours at the cafe flew past, mercifully free of the dreaded afternoon slump. My screen was filled with a draft – albeit a very rough one – of this article.
As I left, I wished Kino luck with her deadline. She turned and nodded her thanks, but her hands didn’t leave her keyboard. The ideas were finally flowing.
