Click for Source Image By Pamela Banayoti
Inspiration + Inebriation = Creation, or should that be... Inebriation + Inspiration = Creation.
There’s no denying the literary/book world is inundated with the promise of an alcohol fuelled environment. Who would argue against such a notion? Carver? Fitzgerald? Williams? All famed alcoholics, perhaps these writers excused their alcoholism with literary genius. However, looking past these writers of the 20th Century, it seems that at some point, those involved in the arts seek solace at the bottom of the wine glass.
Inspiration + Inebriation = Creation, or should that be... Inebriation + Inspiration = Creation.
There’s no denying the literary/book world is inundated with the promise of an alcohol fuelled environment. Who would argue against such a notion? Carver? Fitzgerald? Williams? All famed alcoholics, perhaps these writers excused their alcoholism with literary genius. However, looking past these writers of the 20th Century, it seems that at some point, those involved in the arts seek solace at the bottom of the wine glass.
Click for Source Image The premature death of the likes of Fitzgerald, Chandler, Kerouac (the list goes on, I’m afraid) alarms us both as creatives, and as human beings. Is the lack of control with alcohol related to the uncertain terrain of the writing world? Alcoholism is not only an addiction; to some it is a disease. And just like writers who love what they do, alcoholics love the feeling they get when they drink. Alcohol may make you feel good about yourself, it may even leave you feeling bad, it may even make you feel numb. But it will leave you feeling something. And does this something not equal to what writers sometimes spend their whole life searching for? The problem is, it is a simulated experience, a simulated reality, but it still brings out a reaction within us. Writers hold on to this, eventually seeking answers in a drink that may solve ‘writer’s block’ or an inability to experience the world when sober.
It is no wonder our favourite writers died so young. Perhaps they internalised their art so fully, that they could not see a future without it, and thus the compulsion to drink gave them balance or a false sense of security.
What does this mean for writers today?
There is no denying the abundance of stories one may come up with when inebriated. One can only imagine the mind spurred on by a false sense of genius; anyone would take pride in seeing their fingers move at 70 words per minute. But is what you’re writing actually making sense? Furthermore, will you remember where you saved your next best-seller? This in fact happened to a friend of mine (*ahem*). She had been with friends. They drank; a lot. She came home. She sat at her laptop, and wrote. And wrote and wrote and wrote. What she wrote wasn't part of the novel she was working on, but her feelings, her magnified emotions in her current state. The next morning, she wastes one hour searching for what she had written, only to have forgotten where she had saved it (no surprises if she accidentally deleted the document without realising). We are left with a question that only some of us can answer honestly. When under the influence, do we write because it will strengthen our prose, or move along the stagnant scene, or do we write as a way of understanding the day’s events, discerning our feelings, wondering why it is that we are left alone at night, writing words no one may ever see?
The fact remains; however good a writer you are when drunk, you’re an even better editor in the morning.
It is no wonder our favourite writers died so young. Perhaps they internalised their art so fully, that they could not see a future without it, and thus the compulsion to drink gave them balance or a false sense of security.
What does this mean for writers today?
There is no denying the abundance of stories one may come up with when inebriated. One can only imagine the mind spurred on by a false sense of genius; anyone would take pride in seeing their fingers move at 70 words per minute. But is what you’re writing actually making sense? Furthermore, will you remember where you saved your next best-seller? This in fact happened to a friend of mine (*ahem*). She had been with friends. They drank; a lot. She came home. She sat at her laptop, and wrote. And wrote and wrote and wrote. What she wrote wasn't part of the novel she was working on, but her feelings, her magnified emotions in her current state. The next morning, she wastes one hour searching for what she had written, only to have forgotten where she had saved it (no surprises if she accidentally deleted the document without realising). We are left with a question that only some of us can answer honestly. When under the influence, do we write because it will strengthen our prose, or move along the stagnant scene, or do we write as a way of understanding the day’s events, discerning our feelings, wondering why it is that we are left alone at night, writing words no one may ever see?
The fact remains; however good a writer you are when drunk, you’re an even better editor in the morning.
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