You Should Not Write Drunk

A WRITER'S Journal

I’ve been thinking about what it means to be a writer, and why I am one.

And yes, I am a writer. Yeah, maybe it doesn’t pay the mortgage yet, but I write - A LOT - so I am a writer. I only say that because it seems that unless you’re actually able to pay the bills by your creative pursuit(s), people - mainly friends and family - tend to just see what you do as a hobby. Or, at best, a glorified hobby. But I am not a hobbyist. I am a writer in my very being, whether I get paid or not. And just the fact that I write regardless of money means that I AM A WRITER. Everything else, creatively speaking, is secondary.

My life is this: Husband, father, writer, then, everything else.

But why? Why do I spend my time making up stuff? Much of it unpublished, unread, or unmade (and even the stuff that is out there goes pretty much ignored. Sob, sob…). I guess the short answer is, I can’t NOT do it. Perhaps only other writers understand this, but for me, writing is like a form of breathing. I don’t feel right unless I’m doing it, or have done it. In fact, there’s no better feeling than having written.

Modern society is designed to keep our creativity at bay, particularly in the lower classes. I mean, really, who’s got time to sit around making shit up? That’s a rich man’s game; just look at the backgrounds of bestselling authors, artists, and certainly actors. Not one of them has seen the inside of a working man’s club or knows the joys of working on a building site. I use the word joys ironically. Yes, the working classes have very much been muscled out of pop culture. Would a writer like Barry Hines get published today? Alan Sillitoe? Maybe; they were bloody good, but is that enough? I think I’m pretty good, sometimes. I don’t mean for that to sound egotistical, but I suppose it is, so why hide it? Without belief in yourself and your abilities, there’s not much else to go on.

Is this post a bit meandering? Sorry, I’m three deep in whiskey and cokes.

Last year, my regular writing partner, Matthew Waldram, and I wrote a big Hollywood action film called The Magnificent Mile. A sort of Die Hard meets The Fugitive, and we sent it out. I think it’s a really good script. What did we get back? Nothing. Not a nibble. Agents are a dead end as well.

I have three feature films coming out this year- How to Survive the Wild, Improper Bastards, and (maybe) The House on Lidderman Street will see the light of day; my award-winning short, Laura Living Backwards, is racking up hundreds of thousands of views on YouTube, my books have been compared to Ray Bradbury, Stephen King, Steven Spielberg, J.R. Hartley. And I think I’m just about to book a new screenwriting gig.

Yet agents - nothing.

This was the last response I got from an agent of a very prominent writer who kindly recommended me and who has been keeping tabs on what I’ve been doing—

Thank you for your email. Sounds like you have been busy!

I will read those two screenplays, but do be aware that I am not currently prioritising taking on more clients. I just don’t have much bandwidth right now and, to be totally honest, it is not a great time in the industry in general to try to launch anyone who could be perceived as “new”. For what its worth...

So what do I do? It’s Catch 22. It seems I can’t get an agent without having done “something”, and I can’t “do something” without having an agent.

I sometimes wonder if I’m like Edward D. Wood Jr. Just completely kidding myself. (For the record, I love Ed Wood— hey, you know why Plan 9 From Outer Space ISN’T the worst film ever made? Because it was made with heart. Real passion. Goes a long way in my book.)

I guess the point of this pointless post is: this path has been a bitch, but is also great at the same time; that I’ll keep on doing it anyway because a creative life, as far as I can see, is the only life worth living, and finally, you should never write drunk.

Case in point is this post. Might delete it later.

Anyway, I’ll leave you with this poem by Charles Bukowski that pretty much sums up how I feel about my writing. I am not a hobbyist.

Go All the Way…