I sometimes use this blog as a way to
force myself to admit certain things. I don’t use it professionally, or as
professionally as I should rather, and I dread to think how many poorly written
blog posts I have in the archive. I also dread to think how many
new-year-resolution like promises I have set myself on here. This post is a cross
between resolution, confession and statement.
It won’t come as any surprise to people
who drink alcohol that as you age, hangovers increase in their ability to
render one totally bloody useless. If you’re reading this aged thirty or under,
you may have had your fair share of shocking hangovers where your head is
suffering 9.0 Richter scale devastation and you lose track of a day or two, yet
no matter how horrific the cramps, shakes, sweats, paranoia and guilt, should
there be an un-missable party that very night, mere hours after you were
contemplating religious conversion or emigration, then the chances are you
would be capable of dragging your backside out of bed or off the couch and
after one or two drinks, of which the first few gulps are similar to downing
battery acid barely preventing instant rejection through the nostrils, you are
back on top form, shouting at the barstaff for tequila shots and busting out
the caterpillar that the night before nearly resulted in a broken jaw. It’s
amazing how we do it, how we put ourselves through the cycle of
pain-euphoria-fear-joy. For the most part, despite occasional
humiliating/violent/financially ruinous/emotionally traumatizing experiences,
we have a great time and after a few days of feeling sorry for oneself, plenty
of water and cold showers, questioning looks at work and trembling glances at
bank balances, we look back with enormous fondness and spend the rest of our
lives retelling with gusto. It's not quite so clear cut trying all that when you are closer to 40 than 20.
Forget for now all the reasons why we
go out and have a good time and the consequences we are prepared to tackle, except one – to suffer the loss of the
following day. That is the single point of my blog post today and what I want
to talk about. I could write a thousand blog posts on the highs and lows of
drinking as there are innumerable subjects to discuss, yet today, this one is
important to me because it has been creeping up on me for a while now and is
something I have changed about my life.
I am no longer prepared to lose time because of hangovers. I am thirty six years old and have no intentions of stopping drinking. Hopefully, should I avoid the reaper for a while yet there will be lots of birthdays, Christmases, stag do’s, Grand National’s (I’m writing this five hours before the race, come on Silviniaco Conti you son-of-a-gun!) and other celebrations in which I’ll be having a drink so this isn’t about giving up booze, no way. What it is about is taking a serious and honest look at the way drinking is impacting the single most important thing in my life, which is improving my writing.
Forget watching how much coffee you
drink, vegetable consumption, whole meal instead of plain ratio, omega five
intake and all that other stuff which is vitally important but rendered useless
in its fight against a Margarita & Whisky Sour overload. Also forget about
how much sleep you should get, going to bed early and sticking to a routine
business, again vitally important and what I am trying to do, but also speared
straight through the heart by the fatal just-one-more-syndrome. Forget
exercise, which I also love and take seriously, albeit in fits and bursts
(sorry for pun) because that too will only turn into the game of
find-a-big-enough-tree-to-vomit-behind-so-the-dog-walkers-can’t-see when trying
to do your hill dashes on a Sunday morning.
 |
| Yeah, I'll have another one, thanks. It may be early morning but after this last beer and a good four hour sleep I shall be in perfect condition to write my masterpiece! |
The truth is that nothing is more disruptive to me today, than drinking too much. It spoils not just the next day, but because I am trying to be a responsible and well organized writer, the week. You play catch up for days. That’s why this is a bit of a confessional, I have to admit that I have a problem with drinking. Before you private message me the number for a branch of the AA, I don’t mean in that way. I mean, I still think I can drink and get away with it. I don’t drink a lot, and that, although a good thing, is why I am still living in denial. I can’t handle a session anymore yet I still think I can. It’s a lie! Alcohol, the great deceiver!
Here is the core of it: If I drink two pints or more then I cannot write the next day. You may laugh, you may think that two pints isn’t much, and within my society, my friendship group, my own sense of what I used to be, it isn’t! Which is why I keep falling for trying it!
It’s become very clear to me over the
course of the last year that I need to up my game in terms of the amount I
write everyday. I am still struggling to be as serious as I want to be and a
lot of that is general procrastination issues and so on, yet there is another
element that I need to be honest about. I need to be able to wake up every day and
be in a clear-headed frame of mind in order to produce decent work. There is no
way around that, I am not writing enough. I will not get anywhere at my current
rate. I’ll use this very blog post as an example. I’m currently at 900 odd
words and it’s taken me twenty minutes, I’m not editing as I go or going to
re-read like I normally would with my fiction, but it’s a rate at which I am
comfortable at, and at which I know I can replicate. I didn’t drink last night
and I don’t have any upset stomach or cloudy head as a result and I can simply
get on with it. If I had a hangover, I may not even have got myself to the
laptop, but if I had managed it, my concentration span would be reduced and my
nervousness and self-consciousness at what I was typing increased. I wouldn’t be as quick
in referencing facts, events, words, synonyms or terms online and there is a good chance I
would have given up. I wouldn’t be able to think straight about the plot and
character, where I am going and my objective for the chapter or short story I
am on. It’s sounds so ridiculously obvious but it is something that actually
gets me very down. I am upset with myself if I don’t get any writing done in a
day, and that is made doubly worse if it is a self inflicted reason such as
drinking.
Listen, Christopher Hitchins or Charles Bukowski I ain’t.
I don’t feel ashamed saying that. To
compare yourself to others is a futile task and as much as there is a certain
aura with people who have iron cast constitutions, there is no point chasing it
if you haven’t got it! It’s a fool’s errand that will lead you in to a bad way.
I have no intentions of trying to keep up with the people around me in social
terms, it is not a point of reference for me anymore. The only thing that is
important to me is creating something meaningful with my writing and to
complete something as quickly as a I possibly can. Things that block my writing
have to be examined, as they should be considered my enemy.
I like going out and meeting my
friends. I really enjoy sitting at one of my local pubs and drinking a pint
while reading. I don’t want to miss out. I must be truthful and I must confront
the issues in my life at the same time though and this year has taught me an important
lesson. I don’t want to turn 40 and still be talking about writing my first
novel. I must put a stop to all the things that are blocking my writing as
otherwise I will be.
So, please excuse the poor-me type
reflection of this blog post. It's nothing serious really, just another part of growing up and trying to be more responsible, being aware of how quickly time goes and using it to your best advantage. The subject has been playing on my mind for a
while now so I thought I would share it with you. If I could wake up every day
bright as a button with a clear head and sprightly step and jump on to the
laptop ready to go then brilliant. The thing is, I can. If I do a number of
things that enable that, I have the capability, but I am harming my opportunities.
I will blog about the huge number of other
things that are in my life and go towards negating my writing output another time, but for
today, I will admit something that every adult (and rascal teenager) already
know. Hangovers are the bloody worst.
Come on Silviniaco Conti!
Have a great Saturday everyone,
R.G Rankine
