Ernest Hemmingway wrote, “It’s better to write drunk and edit sober.”
I’m sober! Should I knock down a few chocolate milks before leaping onto this Social Networking thing?
Bring up the subject of writing drunk to any full or part time author and a shy grin blossoms on those lips that softly dance like ballerinas during a performance on the Blumenthal stage in center city Charlotte.
Google the quote and 908,000 links are waiting to make love with your vividly dry fingertips; How to write drunk without drinking; The Happiness Project Writing Drunk and Editing Sober; The Top 10 Drunk American Writers!
In 2001 no gun, knife, rope or razor was used when killing off one of the main characters in my now published book The Blizzard White Canvas: Halloween 78. Your Honor I used several glasses of very sweet wine!
By mornings edge; the decision to revert back to the origin was diverted due to a battle brewing between the prints uncovered by a CSI unit that exclaimed, “If you’re such a great writer, take on the challenge of this drunken behavior and write a new beginning, middle and end.”
Oh it was hell! As much as I wanted to rip from my heart the greatest love story between innocence and greed I didn’t want to lose the essence of loud rock music being scolded from the souls of silent lyricists and painters from separate invisible dreams. What? Now you know the way I went…I wanted an opera! I dreamed of writing in my own language like Shakespeare and Samuel Clemmons. (Mark Twain) Only to hear from every critic given birth this side of 1950, “You aren’t them! You won’t be them! Stop writing so far over people’s heads!”
Just once I want to write in a language that speaks to the one whose favorite reading place is ten minutes of peace on a toilet. I want nothing more than to give you a page not a chapter. A Kendle-ized bright light that grants your imagination permission to sink into a pool of I have no fricken clue what this man is saying but I can’t put down this damn electronic contraption.
I don’t write to be loved, liked or looked upon as being an author; I write because its oxygen for a living, breathing monster inside of me whose passion is do nothing more than sit behind these eyes growling at a passerby.
Julia Cameron elegantly writes, “We were all born to write…”
Bob said to partner, “Leave Arroe alone he’s an Artist…”
Talk about the perfect storm of someone getting peanut butter in my chocolate! Without even knowing it all ten of my fingers were free from a life of imprisonment that didn’t require a NATO or Obama invasion. A night in 2001 blessed with the berries found in fields of green leaves and purple things dangling from strings whispered, “Write it and they will come.”
Teachers order you to write one way…their way. Instructors encourage you to be you. Visionaries listen to the wind while cuddling close to the ground like a Copperhead snake while Stock Market employees forget that real people with valuable dreams still grow in America.
For the first time ever…ever….ever! There aren’t any lines on the paper. Through Social Networking you have a place to write drunk and edit sober.
Change the title of your book 100 times! Create stupid character names and place them next to pictures of Hollywood actors you’d love to see on the screen shouting your words. Unmask the monster with stinky a** breath behind those eyes and give life to your self and every itty bitty person that you mimic while racing toward a fast approaching horizon.
Brad the trucker says to me, “We’re all gonna die…just make mine fast because I can’t see how my dad is staying true to what he loves while battling dementia.”
The person who created the fart developed the most brilliant underrated shape of entertainment and emotion; some laugh, cry, run, make faces, feel relieved and keep reaching for yet another.” Being a writer or taking fifteen minutes a day to jot down a stupid thought gives back to the creator in ways nobody not even a poet can explain.
Get drunk on life and edit sober. You know what? Screw the editing…your personality shines like a dime dropped on fresh black top forcing anyone, everyone including myself to reach out and pick it up.
I will always believe in you first…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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