Some poor soul found my website by googling “freelance lifestyle booze writer.” I’m as big a fan of booze as the next whiskey-swilling MFA graduate. But don’t imagine I sit down at my desk Hemingway-style and write with a glass of whiskey at my elbow. Nope. I have one old water glass, this morning’s coffee, and a glass of strawberry smoothie all within an arm’s reach of my desk. (I may know where to stow my commas, but otherwise I’m a bit of a slob.)
Booze is delicious, but it dulls the finely honed editorial eye and leaves only editorial rage. Editorial rage is, of course, the blood running through my veins, but I try to justify its existence by my keen eye and sharp critical thinking. Or that’s at least what I tell myself. So, don’t let that freelance lifestyle lead you to define cocktail hour as three in the afternoon. At least not every day.
This post is in honor of my New Year’s resolution to never drink so much as a fraction of a glass of champagne at midnight after I’ve been drinking other things.