JT Ellison           

When’s the last time you wrote drunk?

There seems to be a perception, propagated by such literary heavyweights that are famous for exploits, like Hemingway, that one can create a masterpiece while under the influence.

I’ve been asked more than once if I drink while I write. It seems on par with asking a heavy machinery operator if they’ve taken a few nips off the old flasks prior to firing up the Cat, or pouring an airline pilot a few draughts of Guinness whilst awaiting takeoff.

So my short answer is no, I don’t drink while I write. I don’t drink before I write. If I am clumsy enough to get near a keyboard after imbibing, I tend to warn people in the subject line – JT’s EWI (emailing while intoxicated) – so I won’t be taken seriously nor made fun of for my extemporaneous  riffing.

You see, I CAN’T write under the influence. Of alcohol, that is.

Now before you get excited, I’m not talking about anything illegal. I’m not a big drug proponent. What you do in the privacy of your own home is entirely up to you, and as long as no one is in danger and small animals aren’t being harmed, I couldn’t care less.

But there is a drug that frees my mind, allows me to think past all the barriers I bump up against in my daily, tethered life.

Nitrous Oxide, better known as Laughing Gas.

You see, my incredibly lovely dentist is new school. He sees absolutely no reason to torture his patients. When you get right down to it, a relaxed, calm patient begets a better result. I couldn’t agree more.

I looooove going to the dentist. It's Fear and Loathing in Nashville.

There’s something about the nitrous that expands my horizons, if only for an hour. I lie in that chair and flat out create. I have an arrangement with Vicki, my technician. If I hold up a hand, she stops and lets me speak. She nods and agrees and promises to “write that down.” Then we keep going. I’m entirely aware the whole time, just… unrestricted. I’m brilliant under the gas. Mind-bogglingly inventive. I could probably cure cancer if given the right components, but hey, I’ll settle for a plot twist or two.

There’s only one problem.

Nothing makes sense. When you come out of it (takes just a couple of minutes) all the fire and brimstone and luminous perspicacity is gone. You’re back to being you.

So I wondered about the rest of you. Do you use artificial means to further the process? Or are you like me, prudishly making the synapses fire while decidedly non-juiced?

This post is in honor of all of my wonderful writing buddies who are attending Left Coast Crime and Love Is Murder, cavorting and imbibing and networking, oh yes, the networking. I miss you guys!!!

I guess we should skip the wine and go with shooters. Someone hand me a lime and the Patron, please. 

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PS. Feeling creative? Jason Pinter is running a contest over at THE MAN IN BLACK blog to determine, well, what kind of contest to run to promote his debut thriller, THE MARK (Mira Books, July).