THE DOCTOR IS IN

Drinkers Who Write, Writers Who Drink

 

One of the topics we discussed on this week’s Litopia after Dark was the purported connection between drinking and writing. Most of the evidence that writers are more likely to be heavy drinkers, and become alcoholics, is anecdotal, of course, because it is hard to design a truly rigorous study of the issue. The anecdotal evidence is impressive, though,  and statistically, writers apparently do die of cirrhosis of the liver in greater proportions than people in any other occupation besides bartender. Some writers believe that alcohol unlocks their creative gifts and that their writing becomes mundane and constricted without it. And sometimes, as Tom Shone points out in a recent Economist article, they prove this hypothesis when they sober up.

 

We had some fun with the topic. Dave Bartram offered to serve as an experimental subject, getting progressively snockered over the course of the show, to allow the rest of us to evaluate the trajectory of his creative expression. (He is always hilarious, and as always the rest of us were too busy laughing to serve as reliable observers, so the opportunity was wasted, so to speak.)

 

But it’s a serious issue, and raises fascinating questions, to which I don’t have any answers.  The most important, I think, are 1) Why do writers seem to be vulnerable to substance abuse, and 2) Why alcohol, and not, say, heroin or cocaine, which are similarly associated with musicians and stockbrokers?

 

There are many theories about #1, though no definite conclusions. Scientists have proposed that people turn to both books and alcohol as escape from unbearable experiences; that writing is so isolating and terrifying that many writers need to self-medicate just to push themselves through the work; and even that genes for creativity and addiction may be linked. I couldn’t say which I think is the most likely.

 

I do have an idea about #2, though I haven’t seen this discussed anywhere and have not thought it out completely. It seems to me that many writers are both socially oriented and socially anxious. We are fascinated with other people—we observe them furtively on the bus and eavesdrop on their conversations in restaurants; we devour psychological novels and develop intense relationships with the characters in our own novels and stories. At the same time, many of us were, or felt ourselves to be, misfits as children, and this sense of outsiderness does not wear off. It can be hard to feel completely comfortable around groups of others, and this discomfort can extend to our characters: part of what our inner censor accuses us of is naïveté about human functioning and relationships;  of exposing ourselves as the geeks and losers we used to feel ourselves to be.

 

Drinking is a gregariousness-enhancing activity. Heroin opens up new worlds, away from the crowd; cocaine enables us to push through social activities with hyperefficiency and manic joy—but alcohol loosens inhibitions and brings us into closer, often warmer, contact with others—including the others in our heads, both the ones we create and the ones that nag at us.

 

I’m not talking from personal experience, at least on the writing end. I love sharing a bottle of wine with friends, but after a few glasses I can hardly find the keyboard, much less produce brilliant prose. But this is the hypothesis that makes sense to me. Others’ thoughts and experiences are much appreciated, as always.

Susan O'Doherty, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself, she specializes in issues affecting writers and other creative artists. She is the author of Getting Unstuck without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Unblocking Creativity (Seal, 2007). Her Career Coach column appears every Monday on Inside Higher Ed's Mama, Ph.D. blog. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.

Comments

[Lesley]

Wow, I think you smacked the nail on the head with a sledge hammer in your description of writer's personalities. At least mine. I find people interesting, but they make me very uncomfortable unless I'm already close to them. I don't really drink much though. It doesn't make me gregarious just very, very sleepy, and drugs have never held much appeal. I have such a tenuous grip on reality anyway that I don't need anything to enhance that disconnect. hehe

That being said, perhaps I SHOULD be drinking more, maybe I'd turn out a bestseller that way. LOL

[Susanne Dunlap]

It's a really big subject, and I think it's also related to things like depression and anxiety—which have also been linked to creativity and somewhat glamorized as a result. I definitely don't write better when I've been drinking, but it is a way that I force myself to let go of daily pressures and cushion myself from a difficult day job—which is just as dangerous as "using" alcohol to stimulate creativity. Definitely food (or rather, drink) for thought.

[Stephen D. Rogers]

I've always wondered how much of the drinking had to do with getting through the hours when people WEREN'T writing.

[Susan O'Doherty]

Thanks, all. Leslie, heh, I imagine that's exactly the path any number of writer/drinkers started down. Susanne, I agree, many abusers of all sorts of substances seem to be self-medicating for a mood or thought disorder. And, Stephen, if "not writing" means "wanting to write and not being able to," definitely.

[john guzlowski]

I recommend a great book about writers and drinking called Thirsty Muse: Alcohol and the American Writer by Tom Dardis. You'll learn a lot about writers and the way the work and you'll learn a lot about alcoholism. The clinical stuff in fact is enough to make you put down your glass of cabernet.

Here's a blurb from publishers weekly about the book:

To those who harbor the notion that heavy drinking fosters creativity, this forceful, sobering study will serve as an antidote. Dardis profiles four alcoholic American writers: Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Hemingway and O'Neill. He argues that the first three burned themselves out before they had fully tapped their creative potential, a decline which the author, a professor at New York's John Jay College, links decisively to booze. Faulkner's whiskey binges and repeated hospitalizations, Fitzgerald's daily alcoholic despair and Hemingway's denial syndrome add up to a sad picture of self-destruction. Eugene O'Neill, on the other hand, quit drinking at age 38, and went on to write plays about the power of addiction, from The Iceman Cometh to Long Day's Journey into Night. Dardis ( Some Time in the Sun ) has produced a sensitive, invaluable group portrait that probes his subjects' addictions in ways neglected even by their biographers. Photos.
Copyright 1989 Reed Business Information, Inc

[john guzlowski]

By the way, I enjoyed your piece and wonder if you've talked about madness and creativity in your group. I teach modern American Lit and my students always assume you have to be crazy to write. They're thinking of course of Plath and Ginsberg and Sexton and Robt Lowell etc.

[Susan O'Doherty]

John, thanks for the book recommendation.

The link between mental illness and creativity appears to be statistically weaker than that between writing and alcohol abuse, perhaps partly because the terms are less well defined. The examples you cite are compelling (though to the best of my knowledge Ginsberg does not belong in this category--his mother suffered from schizophrenia, but I have never read that he had anything more than normal neuroses) and there are certainly dramatic examples of mental illness across the arts. There is some evidence that artists are more prone to mood disorders than the general public, and that their first-degree relatives are, too, suggesting a genetic component. Fascinating topic and worthy of a future column--thanks for bringing it up.

[Stephen D. Rogers]

The Dardis book is excellent. One of my favorite "writing" books.

[Stephen D. Rogers]

Susan,

Actually I was thinking more along the lines of the time when writing aren't writing. Life can be a pale imitation of art, and sometimes I think writers can try to shift down their brain to keep pace with reality.

Stephen

[Susan O'Doherty]

Stephen, that is fascinating, and I'm sorry I didn't understand the first time. I do think many of us are drawn to the dramatic scene and have trouble with the mundane details that make the real world function but that we can edit out of books (and other kinds of art). It makes sense that there would be an impulse to dull ourselves down, in a way, to make the real world more bearable. Thanks for clarifying!

[www.google.com/accounts/o8/id?id=AItOawkw2aMqh_FVRmWHZQFc9x3uZQZiVHeyOHk]

Ann Clarke

I am a writer and yes I am fascinated by the human condition. I studied psychology and have written 4 books. One is published (Dutch Courage) and is about a young student, Simon, who is alcohol dependent.

I do drink but it doesn't help me write, quite the opposite. I must be clear headed to write and then I can't seem to stop. A very small amount of alcohol might stir the creative juices but generally if I have written when under the influence when I read it next day I realise what rubbish I have written.

Anybody interested in reading Dutch Courage please email me on:
annclarke1952@hotmail.co.uk

[Katrina Stonoff]

Sue, your theory about why writers abuse alcohol as opposed to heroin or cocaine is fascinating, as is the conversation in the comments.

You ever think of writing a book about it?

[Susan O'Doherty]

Katrina, I agree, all of the comments are fascinating. And I haven't thought about writing a book about it--sounds like Ann has that sewn up!