A few weeks ago I did another writer's weekend at a local hotel. A hotel I've decided caterers to swingers. I got a great rate on the hotel, and the fee included a happy hour, complete with two complimentary drink tickets, and free breakfast. Both nights I attended the "happy" hour and it consisted of an assortment of couples sitting around with stale popcorn, their drinks, not talking, but scooping each other out. All while Fox News played in the background. It was a really weird vibe.
The "happy" hour ended at 7:00pm. The second night I had my notebook and was leisurely finishing my popcorn when promptly at 7:00pm the "bartender" marched over and told me I had to leave. I looked around and realized all the swingers had slinked back to their bedrooms. I felt as if I had been cut off like Nicholas Cage in "Leaving Las Vegas". Yet it was still light outside. Now remember, this was the lobby of the hotel, not a separate bar within the hotel. I slinked back to my room with just my notebook.
I spent most of the weekend watching television, hanging out my window, and eating an entire box of Cheez-Its. There was little to no writing completed, and I felt miserable that I had wasted time and money without accomplishing anything. Monday evening, after I had been back at work for a day, I was able to sit down and come up with the beginning of the book. I realized that sometimes with writing it only happens when it happens. You can't force it just because you got yourself a weekend at the local Hedonism resort.
