With a few exceptions, I have written nothing on this website without the help of a cigarette. At present, I am trying to figure out how to be a writer and a non-smoker at the same time. It’s not going very well. I’ll keep you posted.
“David’s older sister, three younger sisters, and his brother, the baby in the family, have appeared in many of his stories, which recast a family history Tiffany feels is filled with pain into funny, often insightful essays that explore what family means. It isn’t necessarily a family its members recognize.”
This article about his sister Tiffany answers some questions I’ve always had about David Sedaris.
Just to give you an update: the post I’m working on now has languished in WordPress for over a month, consists of 1401 words in 15 paragraphs, and is only half finished. I believe this situation to be indicative of patterns that exist elsewhere in my life.
At this point I’m comprised of 87% nonsmoker and 13% smoker. I didn’t smoke at all for 21 days, and then, sitting on my patio talking on the phone after a particularly difficult day at work, I lit a cigarette. Smoking it felt unfamiliar, like my hand belonged to someone else, like my lungs weren’t mine, like the smoke in them shouldn’t exist somehow.
So now I smoke a cigarette every two or three days, or sometimes two or three cigarettes every day, but I always make sure I’m alone. I put each cigarette out when it’s 3/4 finished and think to myself, “That wasn’t terribly pleasant, now was it?” Then sometimes I light another one.
When I quit on March 15, I had 2.5 packs left over. Of those 2.5 packs, 6 cigarettes are now left. The reckoning will come when I smoke those 6 cigarettes (over the next 2-13 days). If I want to smoke any more, I’ll have to go buy more, and I’d rather not do that.
The point is that it’s much harder to write when I’m not smoking.