Yesterday was a writing day. But of course I had to bribe myself to do that thing that I’m always lamenting not having enough time to do. I don’t think this is just because I’m whiny. It’s a lot of fucking work. Just ask Teri.
At an appropriate o’clock of the late afternoon/early evening, I told myself that if I finished one last spurt of writing that I could have a bourbon. I’m still not sure whether this is a good way to get myself writing or a good way to become an alcoholic.
When I was younger I used to wonder how writers managed to be drunks or write while drunk. I had a couple beers and just wanted to go to sleep. Now that I’m older and writing a memoir I understand why writers might drink after writing. That’s a lot of shit to bring to the surface, to have back in my mind and my life. It makes me cranky, angry, and prone to sadness.
And after I write, after my work day is done, I am generally expected to interact with the human beings in my life in a reasonable way. DP is tired of watching me cry over movies or go to bed at nine o’clock with a mystery novel. One of these days my friends are going to stop calling.
And so I have a drink to distance myself just a bit from my work, to quiet the raging, overtired ADD brain, to be less irritable. And it works. But what if I have two or three? Where is the line?
How do you get by?