I Took Hemingway’s “Write Drunk, Edit Sober” a Bit Too Literally
Here’s what happened
I normally make a huge point of avoiding my MacBook at cocktail hour.
Come 5 o’clock, I remove it together with anything business-related from our dining table where I work, shove it deep in the work drawer, and replace it with candlesticks, a centerpiece, and wine.
It’s a safeguarding measure:
No questionable purchases after a couple of glasses. No writing, and most certainly no publishing. What if I hit publish on something too personal! I won’t survive.
But something has been bothering me lately.
“Write drunk, edit sober,” Hemingway famously said.
I’ve never done this. But what real writer doesn’t write drunk at least once? I wonder what would happen. What if there is another dimension I’ll never discover otherwise?
Well, you know where this is headed.
I braved it. Not with Absinthe, sadly.
But after two glasses of French (of course) Sauvignon Blanc, this happened:
