There was a time when I thought that I couldn’t be a real writer unless I was miserable and drank and smoked. But it soon became clear to me that my hypochondria severely impaired my ability to do either of these things. Instead, my writing drugs of choice became gum and Tic Tacs. We’re talking about a multi-pack a day habit here, which really strained my relationships with family, friends and roommates. For the first six months living with my boyfriend, I was able to keep the habit in check. But in week one of blackmailing myself, things took a nasty turn. Well, that’s not true. They started out fine. At first I felt like one kick butt combination of all of the heroes from the best PBS/bleeding heart liberal shows I watched when I was growing up.
Butterfly in the sky? Pah! I can fly higher than that!
With your powers and my immature jokes combined, I am SAVING THE EARTH!
I ain’t no ghostwriter, but I can take letters and write with them.
But as the week rolled on, the roller coaster of emotions was almost too much to bear. On good days, I’d write thousands of words and feel like the most creative, talented person alive. On bad days, gum and Tic Tacs seemed like the only reason to go on. Until I could hide my problems no longer.