Running and Writing

I’m supposed to get up at 8am tomorrow morning and run around town in a Santa suit, accompanied by my younger daughters. I’m not quite sure how they’re going to do it given that they have not taken part in any activities you might describe as helping their fitness for weeks.

I’m starting to wonder if this is what growing up is all about – getting up and doing things you don’t really want to do, because somebody asked you to. It’s a bloody stupid idea really – running around dressed as Santa. I imagine it will give a few people a laugh around town.

If I wasn’t running (read:walking) with my daughters I imagine I would be home within half an hour – I can’t see us getting home inside an hour.

I was going to have a night off from writing tonight, but then something clicked in my head, and I spent the last two hours churning out another post for the other blog. It’s been cross posted to Medium, where I’m slowly but surely making money now. Let’s hope I don’t run out of things to write about any time soon.

It turns out it’s quite difficult to write after two glasses of wine. I’m wondering how Hemingway did it – I’m beginning to suspect the stories of drunken excess are lies.

3 thoughts on “Running and Writing

  1. When I was writing my first book, I tried an experiment to see if drinking impacted the thread of my writing. So, one evening, before undertaking a new chapter, I exceeded my limit–with my usual nightcap of bourbon. I was pretty hammered. And away I wrote. It seems that my inner writing voice is not impaired by drink–though my typing gets pretty wild. At the time, my usual pattern was to email the evening’s draft to my parents. They had the task of electronically storing my manuscript in case… (well I lived in rural California–so anything could happen.) On their end of the deal, they got to read it hot off the press. On my inebriated trial run, I finished for the night and hit send…and waited. I wanted to see if they could tell. Nope. Except for an offhand comment on the typos, they didn’t notice a difference. Even when I queried them. So perhaps Hemingway had an interior writing mode, like mine, that chugged along regardless of saturation. I don’t drink much anymore. I’m getting old and don’t enjoy the consequences. Or maybe I’m getting smart. Sobriety doesn’t much impair my writing, either.

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    1. I’m the same way – I enjoy the first glass, and the second, but then think “ah crap – I can’t think straight, and don’t enjoy not being able to think straight, and I can’t type, and I’ll have a headache, and… and… and….” lol

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      1. You appear to have come to that realization earlier than I did. I think I gave up on “buzz” by mid-fifties. It took a couple more years to do the math on it making me feel crappy.

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