In 2002 I was 26 and living in Tokyo and wanted to write HARD. What I thought that meant was, chain-smoking and drinking bourbon at a 4 AM keyboard. Which made for the most pure writing fun I’ve ever had, and a manuscript complete in a little under six weeks.
The writing life ain’t so hard, I thought.
These florid lines, released with a grimace on my part, belie that thought. They were meant to form the opening pages of a novel, and now finally see daylight as an exemplar of what not to do. (Though I’m still fond of some of them, in a grandfatherly sort of way.)
I still write at 4 AM, only sober and just awakened. Not near as much fun, but there are no hangovers, and a lot less grimacing later.
See the full floridity at Necessary Fiction. (Thanks to Steve Himmer for the opportunity to air the purple prose of pages past.)