Seven of us gathered around a sturdy and venerable wooden table to engage with the written word and flesh out our crime/detective story projects.
It was all going so well.
Then the Jameson’s came out. It was my fault and I take full responsibility because I was in charge of the workshop.
Suddenly, and Elmore Leonard once wrote that no crime writer worth his decent whiskey should ever, ever, ever, use the word “suddenly.” Its use is cheap and a telegraph. For hacks.
But…dammit, everything stark happens suddenly, right? Everything terrible and beautiful in life is usually sudden!
Suddenly, Jameson was being poured into coffee cups to make us all feel better about doing so at 2 pm. We even poured a little Jameson into the dog’s water bowl and he lapped it right up, quite possibly because his name is Mick.
The workshop started ratcheting up. We did a simile exercise. Ideas started tumbling out like elixirs from a shaman’s grab bag.
Two bottles died.
We’ll do it again in a few months. We’re onto something.
I’m drinking a Jameson in a snifter as I write this, and feel good that I can still teach every now and then.