My boss and I have a little joke. When I have to write an article for her and I have writer’s block, I bring the work home and open up a bottle of wine. Also known as “creative juice.” She’ll read a piece and try to guess how many glasses of wine it took me to write said piece. (When I wrote a bylined article for her on the North Texas Super Bowl and quoted Shakespeare … well, that was a three glasser)
As I sit here procrastinating on writing another work article (only one cocktail in, mind you), I got to thinking about why I only turn to the bottle when I need to be creative with work, but rarely do I drink and write. I mean, it worked for Hemingway …
Part of the reason I do my fiction writing sober is the simple fact that I start early in the day on the weekends – even I think it’s too early to pop open the bottle at 10 a.m. Even though I eat, sleep (some nights, sleepless) and breathe my day job, I live with my story constantly and in some cases can slip into my fictive dream more readily than slipping into the work-writing dream.
I am a little curious though. The Super Bowl piece with Shakespeare quotes was apparently the editor’s favorite bylined article. So, what would happen if I hit the bottle one day and try to do a little work on my WIP? Would it be an uber-creative chapter or would it go all over the place? Is imbibing and writing akin to drinking and driving, illegal and should never be attempted? Or, will I recall my single days where I flirted with anyone who would buy me a drink and follow that fictive dream wherever it takes me (but I won’t go home with it, because I’m not that kinda
I might undertake a little experiment in a couple of weekends. My husband is heading out of the country in a little over a week, maybe I’ll crack open a bottle of wine, hide my car keys from myself and see where the drunken muse will take me.
If I do, I promise I’ll post what I write here. After all, maybe that will be the equivalent of the walk of shame.