Writting drove me to drink and other habits

The past couple of days I been popping in and out of writing a great novel. Though, whether it will ever be written or not is another question. Knowing my luck at the very moment inspiration and clarity come to me my PC will decide to blow up. Given it suddenly feels it has been over used. All those keyboard tappings are just not good for it. But the thing is, it is taking ages to do. It's like I am forcing it. I mean only just coming into my 6th page and with difficulty. Going back over bits I've already done and fleshing them out some more and the editing again. The same pages get edited so may times they will thing it's a printing press. If I had a storyline then maybe it would be different rather than just winging it as I go along. Words which are so easy to come in a BLOG where I hardly edit them against a written piece where they are forced. Two different things altogether. It's like when you have someone look over your shoulder to see how you operate a computer and the moment you realise you are being watched you make mistakes. It happens all the time. I suppose it's what they call performance anxiety. No wonder people take tranquilizers. I could do with some myself.

I stopped off in the pub for a quick Guinness this evening and there was only one other person I knew there. He came over and said it felt like he had been there about 3 hours because there was none from the usual group to chat with. I enjoyed my pint and we got into a discussion about being drunk and merry. That it is a wonderfully relaxed feeling and depends on the individual. But generally we were happy when inebriated. He'd just given up smoking and told me it had been one week since his last ciggy. I think he must of been going through the pains of withdrawal. It's always the same with smokers just when they give up. For some reason they count not just every day but every minute. Odd because he said he didn't feel addicted to the nicotine but just wanted to kick the habit. When I saw my doc not long ago he asked me twice whether I smoked. Then he asked me about drinking, I wasn't completely convinced he believed my answers. Well he gave me a prescription for two sets of asthma pumps and told me to come back in a month's time. I booked the appointment straight away. Which was a miracle in itself. Getting the appointment in the first place felt like I had to jump a dozen hurdles, swim a shark invested lake and then dodge poison arrows. Just getting through on the phone is tough enough.
This probably gives me good reason to go to the pub on a more frequent basis. I'll think about it while I'm adding some more words to my 6 page novel. Now if I smoked, I'd really look the part of intellectual writer with a drink problem.