I sat in a seedy bar that smelled of wet rags and old shoes. My second glass of whiskey was almost empty and the cigarette between the fingers of my left hand was unlit. I was road-weary and drunk.
To no one in particular I said, “That first husband of mine never did anything in moderation. It didn’t matter if it was cocaine or Jesus. Nothing in moderation.”
The woman to my left, with her gravelly voice and smudged red lipstick laughed, then yelled, “That should be the title of your book!”
Just kidding! I was actually sitting at Bergamot with Doralice and friends sipping bubbles and critiquing each others’ writing. But I did actually say that and Doralice did suggest the title. I’m not sure I will keep it, but that’s the working title as of today.
2015 will be the year I make a very significant effort to finish the words that roll around in my brain on a daily basis. Last night I attended a Christmas party where a friend asked me what was the biggest inhibitor to getting this book written. I said, “Time. Just finding the time to sit and write.” He said, “If it’s not on the calendar, it won’t happen.” Or something to that effect. I was two drinks in at this point.
I got my new Moleskine planner this weekend and just wrote “WRITE” on the calendar.