How To Write Drunk and Edit Sober — A Six Step, Realistic Actionable Plan
When a manic writer and a barbaric editor confesses, you must know two things: one, they absolutely will not lie about how deep and haunting the writer life is, and two, they cannot lie because they know nothing else but this as the only way to write.
Of course I write for money, I design flows which have helped my clients convince their customers, but when I write for myself… when any writer writes for themselves, they do not write for money. They write for the respect that their profession never received. Me? I write with the intention to relate to someone; perhaps, someone just like you!
Those are intimate conversations; conversations where I am speaking my mind and simultaneously wondering if it has reached someone around the world who feels the way I do. In those times, you write drunk and edit sober.
Maybe you are an engineer, a product manager, or a doctor who is curious about the art of choosing words. Or maybe, just maybe, you are yet another human who wished to experience the rush that comes with the written word. Or you can be a teen with eyes lined with kohl. I don’t know who you are. But I know that you want to know what it feels to write and break free.
Me? I am a writer. And this is my rendition of how to write drunk and edit sober.
Step 1: Read
Pick up a book. Pick up a magazine. Find your favourite writer’s Twitter feed. And start reading. Read until adrenaline rushes through your veins.
Are you there with me?
Wait, no, now is not the time to type away yet.
Wait for your heart to sink. You will hear a loud thud, or a crashing noise as it drops on the floor of your abdominal cavity. That is the moment you let the words unsettle you.
I know I have asked you to wait for long enough. But if you please stay, you will hear your breath become shallower. If you lie still, you will hear the light footsteps of your muse outside the window.
Step 2: Break Down
Chances are you will receive the ninetieth call from a long lost friend who is innocently checking up on you and it would scare your muse away. You’ll be startled. You will resent that friend for no reason. Your only pursuit is for your muse, and anyone else is not acceptable. So you break down.
Congratulations, my friend! You are officially on step 2.
Now, you howl. You howl at the moon like the mighty lone wolf. Life holds no meaning anymore. You crawl and reach out to start over. Except you cannot drown in those words anymore. You doubt yourself.
The thought of a blinking cursor on an empty tab stabs you in the chest over, and over again. You can feel the knife twisting, and turning inside you. Now is the time. Resent yourself for not having written something that you like yet.
Step 3: Wonder if you will ever make progress
Watch the skies grow overcast from the tiny window. You can hear the storm just when you start getting in the flow. The words will make sense. Except, you will read between the lines.
If you are lucky enough, you will find a dimly lit street. The bleak lights will flicker. The end of the horizon will call out your name. In that moment, be brave. Step in and you will find the world of wordsmiths who enchant you in luscious traps with intricately crafted tales.
Scrape up all your courage and step in.
Step 4: Get high and write
Get high on that euphoria. Get high on that magic. Soak that motivation you draw from the witches who brew potions and words appear on a holy book by the fire. There is no force that can stop you now. Get high on that power, I’d say.
Step on the steed and ride it to town. Declare a war within you. Let each word you write be a war-cry. Bleed all over like no one’s business. Slash, slay and conquer.
When the massacre ends, step back and come back later.
Step 5: Chop, chop!
Grab the finest axe. Sharpen it day in and day out. On a cloudless, glorious night when the moon shines, gaze at the stars. Sit by the window and read like you learnt to read.
Word by word. No clusters. And then chop.
You will start off with unnecessary adjectives. You will break long sentences into two. You will add, replace, and delete words. Slowly, and steadily, it wouldn't be the same anymore.
Step 6: Declare your first draft unacceptable
Baffled with the atrocity that you called the perfect first draft, you will pull out every text book, look up studies on literary devices, sift through your notes on Anais Nin’s narcissim, Sylvia Plath’s elaborate metaphors, and Bukowski’s flair for downtrodden American imagery.
When the frenzy ends, you will throw in the towel. You will loudly declare your first draft unacceptable.
Long after, on a fine, sunny afternoon, when Sinatra plays in the background, you will have your back against the walls at the front porch. The climbers will take a peek or two at that old draft too before you finally hit Publish.
If I were enrolled into Hogwarts, my patronus would be a pen. 🖋
Just in case, if you’d want to read more, here’s what I would recommend.
👉🏼 Toxicities
👉🏼 Shenanigans
If not, drop a word with your feedback anyway. 🤓