This week, I’m traveling to the beautiful state of Tennessee to lead a breakout session at Story Nashville. I’ll be speaking about the intersection of pain and creativity. It was my pleasure to the below preview piece for the folks at Story.
There are less awkward ways to introduce oneself, but for the sake of brevity, indulge me: I am a Christian drunk. Yes, there’s nuance to unpack, as everyone is so prone to say these days, and yes, I’ve been sober for some time. The truth is the truth, though, and the truth put another way is this: Gin and I are not good dance partners.
For a spell, I enjoyed the thought of writing the Great American Novel, and I gave it the old college try. I wrote in the evenings, always under the influence of gin or whiskey. The liquor loosened the voice of the muse—the Siren?—who distracted me from some very real pains in a very heavy season of life. At some point, the distractions became more more frequent, my lack of presence more pronounced. Alcohol replaces things, see. Replaces responsibility. Replaces creativity. Replaces family, perhaps.
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