I don’t often get drunk. In fact, I’ve only been drunk twice
in my life. Some might consider that an impressive fact for a twenty-something
of independent means. I honestly just don’t see the point. I do, however,
appreciate being tipsy, giggly and giddy. All of which can be achieved with a
reasonable amount of cheap wine.
The first time I was ever truly drunk was at a company
Christmas party. I used to work in retail. Of course, that usually means that
you drink more, but being a store manager meant long hours and little energy.
Hardly an atmosphere which is ideal to drunkenness, although it is one in which
most prefer it.
The second time I was in the safety of my home, drunk off of
cheap wine. This, I believe, is the best kind of drunk.
Tonight I’m not drunk at all, but I have had a few glasses
of wine. The bad thing about alcohol? It lowers inhibitions, makes you more
vulnerable. The good thing about alcohol? The same damned things. Honestly, at
home, with a pen in my hand (or a keyboard beneath my fingertips as it were),
alcohol is the great creative lubricator. It makes me stop judging the words,
which is the most important part of writing a first draft.
Ernest Hemingway once said, “Write drunk, edit sober.”
Obviously Hemingway may have overdone it from time to time, but the idea is sound.
Loosen up; let yourself write when you write. Edit when you edit. For me, two glasses
of wine are usually enough to silence the diamond polisher within me and give the
vomit drafter the vocal chords of Etta James. Do what you need to, but let
yourself write.
Eat Life.
