Thursday, January 20, 2011
One of my critique partners, Margo, published this amazeballs post the other day entitled Drunk On Writing. I was inspired and am, uh... creatively stealing from her.
In her post she described her excitement of jumping out of bed knowing that she’d be able to write and how she didn’t want to crawl out from under the covers when she knew her to-do list wouldn’t warrant efficient writing time. And she offered up this Ray Bradbury quote:
You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.
Drunk on writing.
How I wish I were thoroughly inebriated.
Oh how I long for the good ol' days when I was drunk on writing. Days when I’d force myself to shut down my computer at midnight and would spring out of bed at four A.M. to write some more. When my mind would be deliriously dizzy and I couldn’t spit out my words fast enough. Stories spun in my head. It was like a movie playing in my mind. And my to-do list was a hazy fog I’d later sober up to. Writing stories was a high I never wanted to come down from. And when I did, a fabulously wonderful hangover lingered until I could jump off the reality wagon again.
But I haven’t gotten hammered like that for well over a year.
And that sucks.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve had a little buzz going here and there, but nothing, NOTHING like the welcomed delirium when I wrote my first two projects.
Why? Well it has a little something to do with that veritable time suck called life. I mean, I’ve always been a busy bee before, but the past year I've found myself with less quality chunks of time to write.
Frankly, reality's been destroying me. And I need some writing intoxication. Bad.
And sadly, I’ve not been in the zone lately. Ideas are there, but I’m not cultivating them. Sometimes I'm afraid that as soon as I start writing, I’ll have to stop. Sometimes I’m afraid I won’t be able to start.
But just the other day, I had one of those two A.M. epiphanies—one that set my brain mixer to whirl. Five days later, my head’s still spinning with characters and plot lines.
And bonus—this weekend I have been afforded an opportunity to write… hours and hours—just me and my netbook. I can just feel the words surfacing at the tips of my fingers, awaiting the chance to be vomited onto the page. You say ew? I say HEAVEN!
So I’m crazy excited about my weekend. Because I plan to get rip-roaring smashed. Not with alcohol, peeps. But with writing. And I hope I have legendary stories worth telling and a massive hangover that lasts for days.