Well, for as long as I can remember, the most difficult part of writing has always been for me the first sentence. Once past that the words seem to flow easier. Not always easy, but easier. I personally don’t care for the taste of vodka. Straight or mixed it will never be a requested beverage. But the refill is always easier on my taste buds than the first drink if I occasion to try one. Or two. Writing is similiar. It differs in that writing is an interest I choose to persue, while drinking vodka is one of those choices when there are no other choices.  They are alike in that the second draft is easier to accomodate than the first. 

 So why choose vodka as an example? A bit of my personal history should explain my chosen distaste. Way, way, way back when I was young, I tried it. I was old enough to legally drink, but still very young.  Vodka. Straight, I thought it tasted awful. Mixed with orange juice, it was palatable. Mixed with ginger ale, it was ok. I don’t know whether it was OK because it was the third shot, or if it was really Ok. I haven’t visited that turf again since then. All I remember is getting sick, (I’ll spare you the details) and vowing never to drink that stuff again. Even to this day, I can smell vodka and it’s enough to make me wince.  Ditto with rum. 

Which brings up the question: I’ve experience the same  stupidity with beer, whiskey, and wine, yet I’d probably never turn my glass away from them. Why? And why spend this time revealing one of my dumber moments in life, when I could be writing about anything else?

No, I haven’t been drinking. I gave up smoking. (all types) And I don’t do drugs that don’t come with my doctors advice and for which my insurance won’t pay. I just felt like writing and my fingers led the way.

Until next time….