I was sitting on a park bench taking in the fresh air and the passing parade. When my friend, Jim, happened by and sat down next to me looking like a rag doll.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it, Jim?”

“Not for me it isn’t. My wife just told me to take a walk because I was irritating her. She said I have nothing but bad traits!” Jim was very glum.

“That sounds serious, Jim. Don’t you have any positive traits?”

“Not according to the little woman.”

I scratched my head and thought this is highly unusual. A 100% Flawed Man!

“Well Jim, personality theory says that all of us have about 5-10 traits that define us.”

“Well, my wife listed a few. She says I’m abrasive, confrontational, cynical, tactless, impatient and ungrateful!”

“Wow! That’s quite a list. But I’m sure she’s not perfect either,” I said raising my eyebrows.

“Lets not talk about her. I’ve got enough on my plate with myself!”

I shook my head.

“There’s a few more bad traits she mentioned but I can’t remember them all. She says I’m a completely flawed man. Can you help me?”

“Well, my friend, what positive traits do you think your wife would like you to have?”

“Lets see, she has mentioned some: Loving and affectionate, appreciative, kind, enthusiastic, patient and cooperative.”

“Lets look at these attributes and see if you can create some in yourself. Maybe you can change from flawed to positive!”

I put my specs on so I looked the part of a psychologist!

“All your attributes arise from many sources, fears, desires, likes, dislikes and past experiences. It gets complicated. But now, lets look at the good traits your wife wants you to have.”

“She wants you to be cooperative: This is a must because if you don’t think cooperation is necessary, just watch what happens to a wagon if one wheel comes off!”

Jim smiled and nodded his head.

“Your wife wants you to be enthusiastic. Why? Because he who has no fire in him cannot warm others, namely your wife!

Your wife wants you to be kind. She says you have many faults, but people will overlook your faults if you are kind!

You need appreciation because it is always appreciated!

Patience is a great attribute because if you are patient with the faults of others; they will be patient with yours!

Show you affection, your loving side, get it out in the open because:

Age is like love. It cannot be hidden!”

“That list is great. I’ll have to pick up on those,” said Jim eagerly.

“So, now you know why your wife wants you to have those attributes. Acquire them and you won’t be a flawed man anymore.

Jim looked entirely different from when he first sat down on the park bench!

“You and your wife will be content if you have good traits.

Remember: All the world lives in two tents: Content and Discontent!”

I recently took my friend, Jim, to a social function. There were about a hundred people milling about. It was a Book Fair. There were writers in attendance and people who love reading and discussing books generally.

I conversed with many people but Jim just tagged along not saying more than one or two words!

Then we sat down for lunch at a table with eight people. We were all chatting but Jim was mute! I asked him afterward what was wrong? Didn’t he enjoy the Book Fair?

It all came out, he told me about his shyness and social anxiety. I had to help him.

“I find it difficult to contribute to the conversation,” said Jim.

“Well, Jim, you need some social confidence so you will be fulfilled in your life.”

“How do I get that?” he said quizzically.

“First, you have to Know Yourself. You must know who you are so you can have the courage to live, speak and act with confidence. It’s an evolutionary process, you are constantly in a state of “becoming.”

“How do I start knowing myself?”

“Well, my friend, you have to know the ropes in order to pull the strings. Here are the ropes:

Pay attention to yourself in your present moments. Be aware of what you say and do and how you interact with others.”

“I can do that, I guess.”

“Good, then you will learn about your personality. Also, try to understand your unique qualities and traits.”

“I know some of those,” he said.

“Next, know your strengths and weaknesses. Accept yourself and try to improve. Grow everyday and learn more about your passions, what you enjoy doing.”

“I still get scared when I’m in a large group.”

“You can conquer your fear and use it to motivate yourself to do what you want to accomplish. Act in the face of fear.”

“I’ll try.”

“Don’t be afraid to go out on a limb because that’s where the fruit is.”

“I find I usually have to think twice before I speak consequently I don’t get into the conversation!”

“People will think you’re an intelligent talker if you just nod your head in agreement with what they are saying. That’s my little joke, just to lighten the situation,” I said smiling.

“I tend to go into a shell when I’m with people.”

“You have to be bold and strong forces will come to your aid!”

“How do I develop these skills?”

“Introduce yourself at social gatherings and talk about what you’re interested in, your passions.”

Jim looked apprehensive.

“Make eye contact, show interest in others. It’s a two way street, you talk and then you listen. Ask questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Open-ended ones that require more than a one or two word answer. Such as: What do you think about…or How did you get into that line of work?”

“I think I’m getting your drift,” said Jim.

A week later I took Jim to another function. He was completely transformed. He was constantly talking to everyone on the table. I sat there gobsmacked!

“Dave, what’s wrong, you’re not talking!

I shook my head.

“You’ve got a glazed look in your eyes,” said Jim.

“Yes I have, that’s what happens when the conversation wanders away from me!”

I am a writer and one day while attending a literary lunch, I was seated at a table with four ladies.

Now, I had recently been fighting an extreme case of writer’s block and I felt that I had lost my MUSE!

These four ladies were all of a “certain age” as I am.

I thought: Could one of these ladies be my replacement MUSE?

One lady was a retired math teacher.

One lady was a retired doctor who was an anaesthetist.

One lady was a Merry Widow.

And her friend, was just Merry!

“Ladies, I am looking for a new MUSE. I am considering one of you for the job!”

They all looked at me in amazement!

The retired math teacher said: “That sounds interesting.”

The retired anaesthetist said: “Well, I could put you to sleep and you would feel no pain.”

The Merry Widow said: “I’m up for it, anything for some excitement.”

And finally, Merry said: “What exactly is a MUSE?”

“Well, it’s an inspirational force, usually personified by a woman, that keeps a creative artist full of energy and ideas.”

All the ladies said they would love to be my MUSE.

The retired anaesthetist said: “What would we have to do?”

“You will have to keep me writing by supplying the words that I need. I always need lots of words!”

Everyone seemed to be in agreement that they could fill me with energy and supply lots of words for me. So I folded up four pieces of paper, three were blank, and one said: “You’re my MUSE!”

I put the bits of folded paper in a bag and each lady drew one.

I wondered who would win.

The next thing I knew I was asleep with my pen in my hand!!!

While checking my social network sites, I ran across something absolutely mystifying! I received a comment with a picture of my mother! The comment was: How have you been son in the last 40 years!

I replied: I’ve been reasonably happy, thank you.

What am I doing? Am I going crazy?

My mother has been dead for 40 years. This is impossible! But there was her picture and comment staring me in the face! Was someone playing a joke on me?

So I replied back asking this person only questions my mother would know the answers to. The answers came back promptly. They were all exactly correct!

So I replied: Wonderful to talk to you again Mom.

The reply came back: Have you accomplished what you wanted to in life son? I remember you wanted to be a writer.

I replied: Yes, Mother, you remembered correctly. I finally accomplished it in my retirement. I have a blog and two books out.

Mom replied: I’m so proud of you, my Son. Remember when you were a boy and I told you to mind your manners, they might come back in style someday.

I replied: Yes, Mom, I remember. You always were one to joke around.

Mom replied: You used to be so timid. Are you standing on your own two feet now?

I replied: Oh yes, Mom, I remember you saying to me that I can’t lean on you always. You made me strong so I could take care of myself.

Mom replied: Oh Son, I thought you were the only perfect child in the world, but of course every mother has one.

I replied: Is there some reason why you contacted me now, after all these years?

The reply came back quickly: Well Son, I’ve been waiting in this line leading up to the Pearly Gates and I’m finally here. Your father is further back.

I asked: It took 40 years to get to the end of the line?

Mom replied: Yes, it’s a very long line! Well, anyway, the chap at the gate now says he’s lost our marriage certificate and he can’t let us in without it!

I replied: What do you want me to do?

Mom replied: I need you to email me a copy via attachment. The email address is: annie@pearlygates.co.heaven.

I emailed the certificate immediately. It’s good I saved all of my parent’s documents!

Mom replied: Thanks Son, your father and I are in! We will check out your two books. By the way, the three people that I got friendly with behind me in line were impressed by your writing career when I told them! I’m signing off now, I love you Son—Click and my Mother was gone!

That night I checked my sales figures and I had sold five more books! This was great! Sales from cyberspace!

Now, I wonder if my Grandparents will contact me from cyberspace?

I have a comfortable lounge couch in my study that resembles a psychiatrist’s couch. One day I was having writer’s block and I felt extremely tired. So I laid down on the couch and fell asleep.

I had this dream: I was marooned on an uninhabited island. Then I saw this raft appear with this beautiful woman on it drifting in the gentle sea breeze. She was wearing a grass skirt and fig leaves were covering her breast. She was waving to me to swim out to her.

She was curvaceous and long legged, her hair was long and midnight black. Her jade-green eyes were boring a hole through to my soul. She had pouting lips and they were sultry and succulent! Naturally I jumped into the sea and swam out to the raft.

When I got to the raft the beautiful woman had turned into the Grim Reaper! He was a hooded figure with flowing black robes and of course he had a scythe!

The Reaper said:

“Are you ready?”

I said, as I was floating in the water:

“Am I going to die soon?”

The Reaper nodded.

“I want a second opinion,” I demanded.

The next thing I knew, I was in a psychiatrist’s dimly lit office and reclining on his couch. The doctor was an old bearded man with bushy eyebrows, dark penetrating eyes, a falcon’s nose, and I couldn’t see his mouth because of the beard. He had a soothing voice:

“Tell me about your dream.”

I told him about the island and the beautiful woman turning into the Reaper. He stroked his beard.

“What’s the dream mean, Doc?” I stammered.

“Well, a deserted island means you spend too much time alone. As far as the woman and the Reaper, it means stay away from beautiful women, they could be hazardous to your health!”

“Doc, I need to know how I can nullify this nightmare?”

“Have good thoughts before you go to bed.”

He started laughing in a wicked way and then he became the hooded figure!

I woke up in a cold sweat back in my study. I thought:

“I certainly don’t want to have that nightmare again!”

I better stick to my AMERICAN DREAM: driving a BRITISH sports car, smoking a HAVANA cigar, and drinking RUSSIAN vodka on the FRENCH RIVIERA!

I was out for my daily constitutional walk, when I passed a strange house. I stopped in my tracks!

The windows were covered with webs and the glass was so filthy it was impossible to see inside the house. There was a sign on the door: Horoscopes, Come In And Learn Your Future! I was intrigued.

I walked up to the door, but before I knocked, I thought, I wonder who will come to the door? Maybe, a witch, with warts and grey, white hair, one that is very ugly. I’ve heard of people being turned into rabbits by witch’s spells!

I shook my head and knocked. The door opened and there stood a beautiful woman. She was tall and willowy. Her hair was mercury-red and it tumbled over her bare shoulders. She had blue eyes and pouting red lips. She was dressed in a long gothic gown that reached to the floor.

“Come in,” she said in a soothing voice.

She sat me down on a red sofa in a dark lounge. She sat opposite me in a red armchair. I glanced around the room and noticed a large caldron in the fireplace.

“So, you would like to know your future?”

“Yes, I would,” I mumbled.

“It will cost you a fiver.”

I gave her the money.

“Why do you want to know about your future?”

“Well, I would like to be reassured it will be good,” I said stammering.

She smiled.

Now, I noticed the fire was going and the caldron was bubbling softly.

“Just making some soup,” she said, noticing my concern.

I was starting to sweat!

“Do you believe in astrology?”

“Sort of, I am naturally superstitious.”

She reached out and took my hand in both of her soft hands. She raised her slender eyebrows and looked me in the eye. Her eyelashes were long and velvety. The experience was surreal!

“You are connected to the entire cosmos,” she said squeezing my hand.

But then she frowned and said:

“But the stars are telling me some strange information about you. You will live long and happily eating leafy greens and vegetables!”

“What’s that all about?” I shouted.

All of a sudden the caldron started steaming. The red haired lady was staring at me like she was putting a spell on me!

I snatched my hand away from her and ran out of the house.

Once out, I noticed I was HOPPING DOWN THE STREET!

I was mingling at the Literary Lunch and I sat down at a table with an interesting looking bunch of people.

“May I sit here?” I said.

“Be our guest,” said the blond woman.

There were four other men at the round table.

“I’m Writer Dave,” I said.

“My name is Marilyn,” said the blonde.

“I’m Thomas,” said the long grey haired gent with the dark suit and high collar white shirt.

“My name is Walt,” said the non-descript man.

“I’m Winston,” said the chubby fellow.

“I’m Jack,” said the young man with the thick head of hair.

“We were just talking about differences of opinion, Dave, and I said, I’ve never considered a difference of opinion in politics, religion, or philosophy, a reason for withdrawing from a friend,” said Thomas.

Then Walt spoke up, “I’ve never lost a friend I wanted to keep.”

“Well, I feel if we listened to other opinions beside our own, we just might learn something,” I chimed in.

“I remember I was once with a woman who intimidated I was drunk and she looked down her nose at me. So, I said, I may be drunk, madam, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly!” smiled the chubby Winston.

We all laughed.

“Too often we enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought,” said young Jack.

“I think that is very true,” I said.

“You gentlemen are all very erudite. My opinion is, I don’t mind living in a man’s world as long as I can be a woman in it,” said Marilyn.

We all smiled and raised our eyebrows.

Jack winked at Marilyn, like he knew her before.

“Well, with your looks, I don’t think you’ll be spending much time alone,” said Jack.

“I restore myself when I’m alone,” said Marilyn seriously.

“I’m a gossip columnist,” said Walt, “And I write stories about women like you!”

Marilyn scowled and said, “Dogs never bite me-just humans.”

“Oh Walt, that’s one for Marilyn,” said Winston.

There was silence for a minute while we all sipped our drinks.

Then Winston continued, “Enemies, you have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, you’ve stood your ground, sometime in your life.”

“Here, here,” said Thomas, “In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock.”

“I write about gossip and gossip is the art of saying nothing in a way that leaves practically nothing unsaid,” said Walt, looking at Marilyn.

Marilyn glared at Walt and said, “I like some men’s company but some I can’t stand.”

Walt laughed, “She’s been on more laps than a napkin!”

“That’s one for you Walt,” said Winston.

“Is this a sort of game, where you keep score?” I said.

“Come on, lets all be friends. Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names,” said Jack, smiling at Marilyn.

“The glow of one warm thought is to me worth more than money,” said Thomas.

“That’s very true,” I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Looking at Walt, Marilyn said, “I don’t mind people making jokes, but I don’t like people to try to make me one!”

“Come on, Marilyn, give us something to write about,” laughed Walt.

“Okay, I will. So, you want to know what I wear in bed? Why, Chanel No. 5 perfume, of course!”

The whole table roared with laughter!

It was then I noticed all the place cards on the table. I was in the company of Thomas Jefferson, Winston Churchill, JFK, Walter Winchell and of course, Marilyn Monroe!

I was gobsmacked! And then I woke up!

After a literary lunch I attended, I was walking around central London thinking about my writing, when I found myself outside a pub near the Houses of Parliament. I was thirsty so I went in. I got myself a pint and noticed two groups conversing in adjacent corners of the pub. I sat down on a bench in the middle of the two groups so I could listen to each group’s conversation. They didn’t even notice my presence. There were four men in each group, all wearing dark suits.

One group was discussing the pros and cons of GLOBALIZATION. The other group was arguing whether or not the UK should stay in the EUROPEAN UNION.

“My shirt was made in Thailand, my shoes in China, my phone comes from Japan and my car is German! Nothing I have is made in the UK. Is globalization a good or bad thing?” said a middle-aged, bearded gent.

“I think it is a good thing because the consumer can get products cheaper. It also gives countries a larger market. So if you can buy cheap shoes from China, the UK can concentrate on other things such as British tailoring of musical equipment.

Then a grey-haired fella spoke up:

“Well, I think it is a bad thing because globalization causes unemployment. Firms move their factories where there is cheap labor. Diseases can spread more quickly. Environmental problems increase because factories in other countries don’t have strict pollution laws. The rain forests are disappearing to supply wood to the rich countries.”

There were sour faces in the group. But he continued:

“Many workers in Third World countries are exploited and work in bad conditions just so rich nations can have cheap goods.”

A little fella spoke up:

“How did all this globalization come about?”

An intelligent looking bloke with large spectacles said:

“Well, it is NOT new! People have been trading goods and traveling great distances for thousands of years. In the modern age, it has been moving at a much faster pace. Today it is easier for firms to work in other countries. Technology is rampant, the Internet reaches more customers around the world. We can exchange money and ideas faster and cheaper than ever before.”

One chap stood up like a soldier and concluded:

“Well, there is good and bad things connected to globalization and many challenges will arise that the world will have to face.”

Then a guy slammed his fist on the table and shouted:

“I believe in Nationalism. I devote myself to the interests of my country. I want to emphasize national goals rather than international ones!” The fellow’s eyes were flashing with anger!

Everyone in that group went quiet!

I went for another pint and moved closer to the other group. I wondered if there were any politicians in the two groups.

“Britain would lose about three million jobs if it left the European Union,” said an important looking chap.

“Maybe those jobs would be lost that are dependent on the EU. But the EU would lose four million jobs that are dependent on UK membership. So, it would be silly for them not to trade with the UK. And another thing, The Lisbon Treaty stipulates that the EU must make a trade agreement with any country which leaves the EU!”

“Would the UK economy be hurt by leaving the EU?”

“I don’t think so because the EU and the UK are members of the World Trade Organization. The WTO would limit the amount of tariffs both could apply to each other’s goods. And Europe sells more to the UK than the UK sells to it. The EU needs the UK!”

“I’m a businessman and I am sick of the EU restrictions and rules that really hinder us, they are burdensome and expensive and time consuming! For example, if the US firms can get new products licensed and to market in days, why does it have to take weeks or months in the EU? And also, the EU open border policy is destroying all our infrastructure!”

Everyone was silent for a minute. The men that were for staying in the EU were glaring at the ones that wanted out!

One distinguished looking man broke the silence:

“I don’t think Britain can survive outside the EU as far as trade goes.”

“That’s a complete myth. Japan, the world’s third largest economy, is not in a trading bloc. Anyway, the EU’s share of world Gross Domestic Product is declining. Norway and Switzerland are not in the EU and they export more per capita to the EU than the UK does. So, being out of the EU doesn’t mean you can’t have a healthy trading business. Britain’s best trading partners are outside the EU, the USA and Switzerland. Plus the biggest investor in the UK is not an EU country, but the USA!”

By this time everyone in both groups had angry and irritated looks on their faces! They actually looked menacing!

I left the pub thinking:

I’M GLAD I WRITE MURDER MYSTERIES!

I was mingling at a literary lunch recently, when I started talking to an elderly gentleman. We were talking about the pleasantries of the day, when he came out with:

“Do you realize you and I are nothing but machines!”

I almost choked on my Hemingway Daiquiri!

“What do you mean by calling me a machine?”

“Well, your organs and body parts are working parts as a machine. Your brain is your mental machinery. You originate nothing, all your ideas and thoughts come from external influences. You are a machine shaping raw material from external sources.”

The elderly gentleman smiled sardonically, and continued:

“You and I are not in control, our lives are determined by factors outside of our control. Our futures are fixed and predetermined.”

“I am a writer, what about my creativity?”

“We create nothing, your creations are imitations!”

“What do you mean by that?” I was getting angry.

“Your imitations come from outside influences, experiences, reading books, etc. All this frames patterns in your mind and your mental machinery turns out the finished product. The less outside influences, the less product!”

“I have to disagree with your strange doctrine,” I scowled.

“It may be strange, but it makes sense. What do you think about creativity and originality then?”

“My originality comes from my judicious selection of all the ideas I have come across and how I put them together into a story. No one combines the knowledge in the exact same way as I do! My creativity is how I present my knowledge. You are a Determinist. I am a Existentialist!”

The old man thought for a moment and then said:

“So, what are your beliefs?”

“Well, I believe we have the freedom to CHOOSE who we are. My future is NOT predetermined at all! My belief is that our essence, our SELF, is something we decide and cultivate with our actions. We are our choices. You and you alone, are responsible for everything you do. You have the freedom to choose your “SELF.”

The old man looked quizzical and said:

“Well, I still believe our lives are completely predetermined.”

I finished my daiquiri and pondered my reply.

“Well, I adhere to the opposite philosophy: Free Will and Choice. Originality is your judicious selection of creative material and how you present it”

We both headed to the “Books For Sale” table. We both bought the same book.

“I was destined to buy and read this book. I simply picked it up because it was meant to be,” the old man said in a determined voice.

“I made an independent decision to buy this book, it was my choice!” I said confidently.

We both took our book and walked away in OPPOSITE directions!

I walked into the “Meeting Place” tavern, wondering who I would meet today. I walked down to the end of the bar and grabbed a stool opposite a huge montage picture of several writers raising their favorite drinks. I wondered if they were drinking to each other’s health!

A fella about thirty years old took the stool next to me and looked up at the picture of the drinking writers.

“I wonder why so many great writers were hard drinkers. Did it help their creativity?” he said looking straight into my eyes.

“I’ve got a few ideas on that subject,” I commented.

“I’m a beginning writer. I’d like to hear your ideas.”

“I happen to be a writer too,” I said smiling.

“Shall we start off our conversation with a drink? What would you like?”

“I’d like a Gin Rickey, please.”

“That’s a coincidence, I like Gin Rickeys also. I pointed up to the picture, see, that’s Fitzgerald’s favorite drink.”

“How do you know the drink in his hand is a Gin Rickey?”

“Bartender, two Gin Rickeys here. Now, I happen to know most of the great writer’s favorite drinks!”

“Amazing! Can you list a few?”

“Well, there’s Hemingway’s Mojito, a macho drink. Then, like I said, Fitzgerald liked the Gin Rickey. He liked them because nobody could smell it on his breath! Steinbeck liked the Jack Rose, an apple brandy drink with grenadine. Faulkner liked the Mint Julep, a great southern cocktail. Shall I go on?”

“I’ve heard enough and like I said, amazing!”

We both took a sip of our drinks.

“Now, please tell me the common factors in hard drinking writer’s personalities,” the wannabe writer said eagerly.

“Well, the first thing you think of is that they had demons in their heads and they thought alcohol would help to exorcise them. Maybe, a lot of them did have demons from their personality traits and early life experiences. Then, you think of the Freudian explanations, the strong mother and weak father effects that cause trouble in the mind, and many writers had parents like that. Many suffer from feelings of inadequacy because maybe the next project won’t be as good as the previous one. And finally, the old bugbear of writer’s block, they can’t get their creativity going!”

“Wow! There’s a lot there to fall into the dumps about!”

“Those men, in that montage picture, created some of the most interesting and beautiful writing we have ever read, but did their drinking help the creative process?”

“It must have helped in some way, otherwise there wouldn’t have been so many writers that drank!” The wannabe looked at me quizzically.

“Stephen King once said, when asked:

“Do you drink?”

“Of course,” he said, “I’m a writer!”

“Hey, that’s funny!”

“I thought I’d lighten things up a bit. I’m getting a little dry!”

“Bartender, give us a couple more Gin Rickeys,” said the wannabe.

I took a long sip of my refreshing cocktail.

“Now, where was I? Oh yes, what does drinking do to help creativity?”

I had another sip and continued:

“When we are sober we tend to be very focused and this can blind us to novel possibilities and a broader, more flexible state of attention which could help us improve creative solutions.”

“I think I read somewhere that science has confirmed that altered states of consciousness, induced by alcohol, remove us from our usual way of seeing the world. This could improve our creative thought and generate new ideas.”

“Hey, you’re seeing the connections now!” I smiled.

My wannabe writer friend spoke up:

“I just thought of a funny joke. Here it is: Some writers drink because they want to be mentioned in “BOOZE WHO!”

“To continue,” I said seriously.

“So lets sum up, writing involves new ideas for stories, alcohol promotes “thinking out of the box”. Writing requires self-confidence, alcohol brings self-confidence, but it might be false. Writing is solitary work, alcohol assuages loneliness. Writing demands intense concentration, which can be stressful, alcohol relaxes.”

My cocktail glass was empty!

“I’m dry again,” I said, rubbing my throat.

“Two more Gin Rickeys please. I’ve just thought of another joke…the favorite drink of a writer is the next one!”

“That’s funny,” I said smiling, and continued:

“Now, lets look at the creative process itself. It is made up of: Thinking outside of the box, which means to think differently, unconventionally, from a new perspective, looking farther than the obvious. Then you get inspired by new ideas and you research them. Then you ruminate over your thought s and ideas and decide which to work on. Then you let the idea stew for a while. And then comes the perspiration of working hard to bring the idea to fruition.”

“Can you follow that process without drinking?”

“Of course you can.”

“What about writer’s block?”

“Well, creativity comes and goes because life’s stresses get in the way and block!”

We both drained our Gin Rickeys.

“Bartender, two more cocktails for the road,” said the wannabe.

“Writers get depressed often and that’s when the drinking increases. Science has shown that depression is amplified in writers because they tend to ruminate over their thoughts.”

“But rumination is one of the main points of the creative process!”

“That’s right, writers and other creative people tend to think more about their thoughts. All this thinking can lead to feelings of failure and hopelessness. And this is where the drinking relieves those bad feelings with false courage, but it does relax you for a while.”

We took long sips of our drinks.

“But all this writerly thinking can have a PLUS side, without indulging in drink, because once you sort out the depressing thoughts it shifts the mind to more positive thoughts and it helps the writer to even more motivation to do more creative work!”

Wannabe finished his cocktail and said, “Well, it’s been nice talking to you. I’ve got to go home now and finish my first novel.”

I drained my glass and said, “Well, my friend, with all the cocktails you’ve had you should be very CREATIVE tonight!”

I WENT HOME TO BED!