I did the strangest thing last night.
I am writing a part for a novel that involves a character being tipsy, written in the first person. In order to get a realistic feel to it I saved up my alcohol money for two weeks and invested in a bottle of Sherry at WalMart. And as I penned, 'He popped the lid off and sipped from the rim,' I took my first swallow.
Then I didn't stop.
Normally I stop. My body was giving off all the warning signals, but I needed the realism. So as he stumbled his way through the chapter with a drink in one hand, I did the same. The keyboard and the bed I was on kept moving and fading, and everything was suddenly funny. I propped myself up to see how he would walk across the room (I made it across). I meandered around in the hallways to see how things would look to me. And I wrote what came into my head. He took the paths that I would have taken, that seemed appropriate to my direction-less state. The chapter closed, then I collapsed.
I lay on my covers with no will to either sleep or arise, my eyelashes turned to mortal weapons against my cheeks. The slightest breeze felt like a tornado, and yet the actual tornados felt like wisps.
I don't remember details of what else happened. I somehow managed to do the dinner dishes I was on. A friend of mine called, was delighted to have caught me with the trousers of my logic fully down, and I remember talking for a very very long time. I ate ham sandwiches that tasted like rotting avocado, and I guzzled all the cold water in the fridge because I knew I was supposed to. I think I showered. I think I walked around naked for a bit. I do not know what time this was, just that the house was black and that I was surprised not to have fallen.
I have yet to see what it was I wrote in that chapter. I am hoping it was worth the head/stomach cataclysms. I'll keep you posted.
I'll be staying the next week with Gobbledygook, Faire Un Nom, and Sparticus. If there was any time you wanted revenge on half the Family blogger committee, drop us a line (a bulky package wrapped in brown paper packaging and twine), and you'll have it.