I’ve always tried to avoid having the quality of my writing be dependant on some foreign substance. There is that lasting writing legacy that some people cling to about alcohol and other vices providing inspiration for stories or some sort of ego and mood booster for the slumping writer. So far, I’ve managed to limit my so-called vices to diet coke and the occasional splurge of jellybeans, or some other sugar spiker. I fight drinking coffee, or espressos, or lattes with a passion (except for the occasional slurp I steal from my fiance’s peppermint mocha). My hope is that I never get into the habit of that “early morning coffee.” Why do I go to any length to avoid these things? Partly because my finances haven’t joined the Army and become all that they can be, and I’ve seen so many of my friends and coworkers take out loans to support their habit. Also, I think a writer’s emotions can be volatile enough on their own without needing that little tip over the edge that the highs and lows of caffeine addiction provide. I know, I know. I’m sure I’ll succumb someday. But for now, I keep this image nearby to remind myself of the perils of those oh-so-innocent frothy cup (with a triple shot).
So what gets you through the day? Do you have some vital pick-me-up that looks suspiciously like a monkey clinging to your neck hairs?
I see that smile.