Random
NO SMOKING
i forgot until *after* posting this that i once smoked a cigarette with martin amis outside a PEN event. nice guy, rolls them by hand.
When Stephen King’s wife radically rerouted his career by pulling the manuscript of Carrie out of the trash, she had to clean the cigarette ash off of it before she could read it. Later on he said that his pace as a writer slowed down for years when he quit smoking; without the nicotine, his pace was simply slower.
I like fire. I like cigarette lighters and matches more than I like cigarettes. I used to burn little bits of paper in a bowl while I was thinking. Smoking was almost incidental. I’ve smoked on & off for eight years, since I was 19, but usually in the range of 1-4 cigarettes a day, almost exclusively when writing (at social gatherings as well, yes).
In college I made money as a medical guinea pig sometimes. Senior year I saw a sign on a bulletin board advertising $1000 for smokers who would participate in a study. I called the number, got screened, qualified, and was admitted into the study (I had to have a physical and produce medical records; it was complicated). Then I was taken to a hospital where I had to do all sorts of cognitive tests (listening to long sequences of numbers then reciting them backwards from memory; I’m proud to recall I kicked ass at this) before and after smoking a cigarette or using a nicotine inhaler.
I also had to drink barium or gallium, get blood drawn from veins and arteries (getting an artery tapped is intense and requires a local anesthetic; you feel the pressure change in your skull; people often pass out). Then I was put into a CT scan machine where I had to lie still for several hours. Finally I got paid $1000 — more than two months rent at the time. The study was on the effects of nicotine on cognitive memory, with the hope that it could result in a treatment for Alzheimers. Here’s some more shit about that.
Nicotine-addicted writers know that the drug does help with writing on some level, although that level may just be that when you are addicted to something, you need that something in order to sit down and focus. That said, it is established that nicotine increases synaptic memory and enhances focus; it’s like a tiny tiny bump of Adderall.
I’ve found that when I’m really working on some project, like really writing nonstop with intense focus — when I’ve got flow (hat tip to Michael Kimball who mentioned this in a comment on my surfing post), it helps to maintain the flow if I stop every two hours or so and smoke half a cigarette. The cigarette feels particularly soothing and somehow serves to refocus my mind, which has been slightly exhausted by the sustained focus of the preceding hours.
That said, that shit is bad for you and is a disgusting habit. It’s been weeks since I had one. I’ve been in Los Angeles for about five days now and I’ve decided not to smoke (or drink) at all while I’m here (3 or 4 months). I’ve never had trouble quitting for periods of several months; as far as I can tell, this is because when I do smoke, I don’t smoke heavily, and because I’ve smoked almost exclusively pure tobacco cigarettes like American Spirits or Nat Shermans, as opposed to mass market cigarettes like Camels or Marlboros. (I did smoke Lucky Strikes in the DR though.)
I feel a little sad to be left out of the tradition of writers who worked with a smoking ashtray beside the typewriter — but oh well.
And that was my post about smoking & writing.
LAST ONE EVER, FOR REALZ, SWEAR TO GOD
Tags: cigarettes, smoking
BLVR: You said it better than I did. I should say that it works the same way for me—a routine is just there for when you’re less inspired, or, in my case, when I’m trying to do the last 7/8ths of something, which is always the toughest. But because you mentioned tobacco in your answer, I want to ask about that. When I first met you, in New York about five years ago, you were enjoying chewing tobacco at a restaurant—that is, you had a dip-cup just beneath the table, in which you deposited juice at a regular interval. Do you want to talk about your history with various forms of tobacco?
DFW: Let’s acknowledge first that this Q actually preceded the last one, and that you just inserted an artful little bridge-sentence in your question-text to suggest otherwise. I know you’re interested in tobacco and the covert gradual suicide that is habitual tobacco use. My own situation is not all that different from Tom Bissell’s, who had some article about chewing tobacco in Tumescent Male Monthly or something last year that I resonated with on many frequencies. I started smoking at twenty three after two years of dabbling in clove cigarettes (which were big in the early eighties). I liked cigarettes, very much, but one thing I did not like was how hard they were on the lungs and wind in terms of sports, stair-climbing, coitus, etc. Some roofer friends back home got me started on chew as a cigarette-substitute at I think age twenty eight. Chew doesn’t hurt your lungs (obviously), but it also has massive, massive amounts of nicotine, at least compared to Marlboro Lights. (This, too, is all very condensed and boiled down; sorry if it’s terse.) I have tried probably ten serious times to quit chewing tobacco in the last decade. I’ve never even made it a year. Besides all the well-documented psychic fallout, the hardest thing about quitting for me is that it makes me stupid. Really stupid. As in walking into rooms and forgetting why I’m there, drifting off in the middle of sentences, feeling coolness on my chin and discovering I’ve been drooling. Without chew, I have the attention span of a toddler. I giggle and sob inappropriately. And everything seems very, very far away. In essence it’s like being unpleasantly stoned all the time… and as far as I can tell it’s not a temporary withdrawal thing. I quit for eleven months once, and it was like that the whole time. On the other hand, chewing tobacco kills you—or at the very least it makes your teeth hurt and turn unpleasant colors and eventually fall out. Plus it’s disgusting, and stupid, and a vector of self-contempt. So, once again, I’ve quit. It’s now been a little over three months. At this moment I have in gum, a mint, and three Australian tea-tree toothpicks that a Wiccan friend swears by. One reason you and I are chatting in print rather than in real time is that it’s taken me twenty minutes just to formulate and press the appropriate keys for the preceding ¶. Actually speaking with me would be like visiting a demented person in a nursing home. Apparently I not only drift off in the middle of a sentence but sometimes begin to hum, tunelessly, without being aware of it. Also, FYI, my left eyelid has been twitching nonstop since August 18. It’s not pretty. But I’d prefer to live past fifty. This is my Tobacco Story.
BLVR: You said it better than I did. I should say that it works the same way for me—a routine is just there for when you’re less inspired, or, in my case, when I’m trying to do the last 7/8ths of something, which is always the toughest. But because you mentioned tobacco in your answer, I want to ask about that. When I first met you, in New York about five years ago, you were enjoying chewing tobacco at a restaurant—that is, you had a dip-cup just beneath the table, in which you deposited juice at a regular interval. Do you want to talk about your history with various forms of tobacco?
DFW: Let’s acknowledge first that this Q actually preceded the last one, and that you just inserted an artful little bridge-sentence in your question-text to suggest otherwise. I know you’re interested in tobacco and the covert gradual suicide that is habitual tobacco use. My own situation is not all that different from Tom Bissell’s, who had some article about chewing tobacco in Tumescent Male Monthly or something last year that I resonated with on many frequencies. I started smoking at twenty three after two years of dabbling in clove cigarettes (which were big in the early eighties). I liked cigarettes, very much, but one thing I did not like was how hard they were on the lungs and wind in terms of sports, stair-climbing, coitus, etc. Some roofer friends back home got me started on chew as a cigarette-substitute at I think age twenty eight. Chew doesn’t hurt your lungs (obviously), but it also has massive, massive amounts of nicotine, at least compared to Marlboro Lights. (This, too, is all very condensed and boiled down; sorry if it’s terse.) I have tried probably ten serious times to quit chewing tobacco in the last decade. I’ve never even made it a year. Besides all the well-documented psychic fallout, the hardest thing about quitting for me is that it makes me stupid. Really stupid. As in walking into rooms and forgetting why I’m there, drifting off in the middle of sentences, feeling coolness on my chin and discovering I’ve been drooling. Without chew, I have the attention span of a toddler. I giggle and sob inappropriately. And everything seems very, very far away. In essence it’s like being unpleasantly stoned all the time… and as far as I can tell it’s not a temporary withdrawal thing. I quit for eleven months once, and it was like that the whole time. On the other hand, chewing tobacco kills you—or at the very least it makes your teeth hurt and turn unpleasant colors and eventually fall out. Plus it’s disgusting, and stupid, and a vector of self-contempt. So, once again, I’ve quit. It’s now been a little over three months. At this moment I have in gum, a mint, and three Australian tea-tree toothpicks that a Wiccan friend swears by. One reason you and I are chatting in print rather than in real time is that it’s taken me twenty minutes just to formulate and press the appropriate keys for the preceding ¶. Actually speaking with me would be like visiting a demented person in a nursing home. Apparently I not only drift off in the middle of a sentence but sometimes begin to hum, tunelessly, without being aware of it. Also, FYI, my left eyelid has been twitching nonstop since August 18. It’s not pretty. But I’d prefer to live past fifty. This is my Tobacco Story.
I need a cigarette.
I need a cigarette.
I smoke ten or twelve hand-rolled (i.e. natural and sans filter) cigarettes a day, and no more or less when writing. Maybe one every hour or so while writing, as a chance to gather my thoughts. I’m not entirely sure the nicotine helps me focus despite your scientific suggestion that it does. What it does do is normalize things. After years of romanticizing writing and fiction and all of that, I now look at it as work. I love the little a-ha moments and the end product, but in between is a lot of work. Work deserving of a cigarette break. By normalizing I mean that it doesn’t become some special time for me to create worlds or something – it’s a part of my day like my actual job. For me there is a precise literary reason – I thrive on the daily storm of life, culture, and insane over-stimulation that is New York. I don’t want to escape to write – I’d fail miserably in some small cabin in Maine like Lethem. And I certainly don’t want to deprive myself of drink or smoke to focus myself – I’d be so, so much worse off.
But hey – to each his own.
I smoke ten or twelve hand-rolled (i.e. natural and sans filter) cigarettes a day, and no more or less when writing. Maybe one every hour or so while writing, as a chance to gather my thoughts. I’m not entirely sure the nicotine helps me focus despite your scientific suggestion that it does. What it does do is normalize things. After years of romanticizing writing and fiction and all of that, I now look at it as work. I love the little a-ha moments and the end product, but in between is a lot of work. Work deserving of a cigarette break. By normalizing I mean that it doesn’t become some special time for me to create worlds or something – it’s a part of my day like my actual job. For me there is a precise literary reason – I thrive on the daily storm of life, culture, and insane over-stimulation that is New York. I don’t want to escape to write – I’d fail miserably in some small cabin in Maine like Lethem. And I certainly don’t want to deprive myself of drink or smoke to focus myself – I’d be so, so much worse off.
But hey – to each his own.
Don’t smoke! Smoking is bad for you.
Don’t smoke! Smoking is bad for you.
Someone should make a convincing case for the novel, journalism, print culture, and the rest as a function of tobacco use in Europe. The novel as a byproduct of nicotine…
Someone should make a convincing case for the novel, journalism, print culture, and the rest as a function of tobacco use in Europe. The novel as a byproduct of nicotine…
offers the illusion of movement and activity in an otherwise vexingly still practice. distracts the part of the brain that cares about movement and activity. marks and structures time. like mowing the lawn, offers physical proof of your worker-bee-ness: “ashtray says/she was up all night.” is awesome, and cool, as the above photos prove.
ah, well. haven’t smoked while writing in two or three years. gallons of coffee/”slap energy drink” and the concommitant bathroom visits fulfill at least the movement/activity/distraction piece.
not a huge fan of frasier or news radio, but has anyone seen the quiting smoking eps on either of those shows? so fucking funny, both of them.
offers the illusion of movement and activity in an otherwise vexingly still practice. distracts the part of the brain that cares about movement and activity. marks and structures time. like mowing the lawn, offers physical proof of your worker-bee-ness: “ashtray says/she was up all night.” is awesome, and cool, as the above photos prove.
ah, well. haven’t smoked while writing in two or three years. gallons of coffee/”slap energy drink” and the concommitant bathroom visits fulfill at least the movement/activity/distraction piece.
not a huge fan of frasier or news radio, but has anyone seen the quiting smoking eps on either of those shows? so fucking funny, both of them.
the last time I allowed myself to smoke inside was when I was getting my low-res MFA. I’d be at work all day, come home and take a nap, get up at 8 or 9 then write until 3 or 4. I was living in a studio apartment at the time and everything I owned smelled like cigarettes. It was gross but cigarettes are the way I got myself focused enough to write, since I was basically splitting my night of sleeping into two parts. That first post-nap cigarette in front of the blank screen made me brave and gave me a five-minute cushion of time where I could just look at the screen and not have to worry about filling it with words. And then when I needed a break, just like you say, Nick, I got one in cigarette form which always refocused me. I don’t smoke inside anymore, and I have plans to quit (again, soon) but I do feel like a less brave writer without them. Like I have no distance or perspective from the computer screen without them.
the last time I allowed myself to smoke inside was when I was getting my low-res MFA. I’d be at work all day, come home and take a nap, get up at 8 or 9 then write until 3 or 4. I was living in a studio apartment at the time and everything I owned smelled like cigarettes. It was gross but cigarettes are the way I got myself focused enough to write, since I was basically splitting my night of sleeping into two parts. That first post-nap cigarette in front of the blank screen made me brave and gave me a five-minute cushion of time where I could just look at the screen and not have to worry about filling it with words. And then when I needed a break, just like you say, Nick, I got one in cigarette form which always refocused me. I don’t smoke inside anymore, and I have plans to quit (again, soon) but I do feel like a less brave writer without them. Like I have no distance or perspective from the computer screen without them.
Totally not about this subject, but the combination of title and author is fantastic, and this subject always makes me think of it:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Books-Cigarettes-Penguin-Great-Ideas/dp/0141036613
Totally not about this subject, but the combination of title and author is fantastic, and this subject always makes me think of it:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Books-Cigarettes-Penguin-Great-Ideas/dp/0141036613
I smoke bubble gum cigarettes, read Derrida’s Given Time: 1. Counterfeit Money to my imaginary boyfriend Christopher Higgs, quote passages such as, ” . . . Baudelaire often paid attention, in other narratives, to the symbolics of tobacco or more exactly to tobacco as symbol of the symbolic itself?”
Then wonder why I don’t have a boyfriend.
I smoke bubble gum cigarettes, read Derrida’s Given Time: 1. Counterfeit Money to my imaginary boyfriend Christopher Higgs, quote passages such as, ” . . . Baudelaire often paid attention, in other narratives, to the symbolics of tobacco or more exactly to tobacco as symbol of the symbolic itself?”
Then wonder why I don’t have a boyfriend.
I quit smoking after nineteen years a bit more than a year ago. Yes, I was a young teen when I started. I miss it terribly. I like breathing, though. That has been lovely. I never smoked in my apartment though so it wasn’t something I did actively while I wrote. Instead, I would write a few sentences, go out on my balcony, smoke a cigarette or two and wait for inspiration to strike, go back in, write a couple more sentences, rinse and repeat. As such, I write much faster now.
DFW’s mention of lack of focus sans tobacco, and also your mention of nicotine being like a dose of Aderrall really mark it for me, Nick. When I used to smoke, I didn’t have nearly the amount of distraction and focus problems I have now, and I’ve often wondered if there’s some merit in the whole adult ADD jumbo, but I’m too stubborn to admit it. I never made the connection to nicotine and focus though until now.
Of course, Arcadia, right? There’s a lot of noise in that assessment. Confounding variables. All that. In college (when I did the majority of my smoking) I had a part-time fluff job delivering sandwiches, class, writing/reading, band, and a girl, and that was the most of my worries. Now, I’ve a full time job, a cycling advocacy site/organization (which includes a lot of extraneous municipal obligations), a house, a wife, reading/writing, climbing, so on. More shit to juggle and sling, so am I really a possible ADD case, or do I just need to figure out to to organize my minutes?
But, this makes a lot of sense to me. Not that it matters. Marblows taste like asshole, and cloves are banned from the States, and my wife is more glad that I don’t smoke (exacerbated by her non-smoking father having just recovered from throat cancer) than she is annoyed that I often and randomly stare off into space talking amongst myselfs. And, I’m more glad for it, too, since cycling and rock climbing have become a big part of my life, and healthy lungs are A+.
Good post, Nick, and good comment, Matthew.
Fin.
This makes me want to start smoking. Problem is, I keep envisioning my grandmother yelping, “Don’t step on the oxygen cord!”
I quit smoking after nineteen years a bit more than a year ago. Yes, I was a young teen when I started. I miss it terribly. I like breathing, though. That has been lovely. I never smoked in my apartment though so it wasn’t something I did actively while I wrote. Instead, I would write a few sentences, go out on my balcony, smoke a cigarette or two and wait for inspiration to strike, go back in, write a couple more sentences, rinse and repeat. As such, I write much faster now.
DFW’s mention of lack of focus sans tobacco, and also your mention of nicotine being like a dose of Aderrall really mark it for me, Nick. When I used to smoke, I didn’t have nearly the amount of distraction and focus problems I have now, and I’ve often wondered if there’s some merit in the whole adult ADD jumbo, but I’m too stubborn to admit it. I never made the connection to nicotine and focus though until now.
Of course, Arcadia, right? There’s a lot of noise in that assessment. Confounding variables. All that. In college (when I did the majority of my smoking) I had a part-time fluff job delivering sandwiches, class, writing/reading, band, and a girl, and that was the most of my worries. Now, I’ve a full time job, a cycling advocacy site/organization (which includes a lot of extraneous municipal obligations), a house, a wife, reading/writing, climbing, so on. More shit to juggle and sling, so am I really a possible ADD case, or do I just need to figure out to to organize my minutes?
But, this makes a lot of sense to me. Not that it matters. Marblows taste like asshole, and cloves are banned from the States, and my wife is more glad that I don’t smoke (exacerbated by her non-smoking father having just recovered from throat cancer) than she is annoyed that I often and randomly stare off into space talking amongst myselfs. And, I’m more glad for it, too, since cycling and rock climbing have become a big part of my life, and healthy lungs are A+.
Good post, Nick, and good comment, Matthew.
Fin.
This makes me want to start smoking. Problem is, I keep envisioning my grandmother yelping, “Don’t step on the oxygen cord!”
Yeah, the going outside and smoking is the big thing. Really nice.
Yeah, the going outside and smoking is the big thing. Really nice.
Sounds hot.
Sounds hot.
The first time I chewed I puked my guts out. It was before baseball practice.
I’ve tried to develop a nicotine habit several times but it hasn’t once stuck. I guess I should start cold turkey.
The first time I chewed I puked my guts out. It was before baseball practice.
I’ve tried to develop a nicotine habit several times but it hasn’t once stuck. I guess I should start cold turkey.
I loved, loved, loved smoking. I don’t anymore, and probably, most likely, never will again, but I miss the heck out of it. Smoking was always a nice two minute rest away from people for me. Increased focus. Ate less, and felt less interested in fatty foods.
I’ve known a couple of smokes-like-a-chimney, full of energy, way too productive, oddly athletic writers. People you could imagine smoking on a treadmill while taking notes for a story. Will they live forever or die at 45?
I loved, loved, loved smoking. I don’t anymore, and probably, most likely, never will again, but I miss the heck out of it. Smoking was always a nice two minute rest away from people for me. Increased focus. Ate less, and felt less interested in fatty foods.
I’ve known a couple of smokes-like-a-chimney, full of energy, way too productive, oddly athletic writers. People you could imagine smoking on a treadmill while taking notes for a story. Will they live forever or die at 45?
I dipped Copenhagen from 9 to 13 and from 13 on I have smoked Marlboro (mostly Reds then mostly Lights). I still smoke. I tried quitting until I realized I didn’t want to quit. They have that strong of a hold on me. It feels good to just surrender.
I dipped Copenhagen from 9 to 13 and from 13 on I have smoked Marlboro (mostly Reds then mostly Lights). I still smoke. I tried quitting until I realized I didn’t want to quit. They have that strong of a hold on me. It feels good to just surrender.
smoking while writing is good. i have to go outside to smoke, to get away from the writing for a bit. i usually have good ideas or think of new ways to write whatever i’m working on while smoking.
here’s to unhealthy living.
smoking while writing is good. i have to go outside to smoke, to get away from the writing for a bit. i usually have good ideas or think of new ways to write whatever i’m working on while smoking.
here’s to unhealthy living.
richard klein’s cigarettes are sublime
richard klein’s cigarettes are sublime
That’s how I feel. I think that more people are guilted into quitting than are willing to admit.
That’s how I feel. I think that more people are guilted into quitting than are willing to admit.
Hello All,
I’m trying to figure out what any of this has to do with Gurt’s gear ratio, or why it was required I de-pants before joining this savoir faire.
Also: Diego Garcia.
J.A.C. (Joint Accountants Corroborate)
Hello All,
I’m trying to figure out what any of this has to do with Gurt’s gear ratio, or why it was required I de-pants before joining this savoir faire.
Also: Diego Garcia.
J.A.C. (Joint Accountants Corroborate)
I’ve started smoking one or two Lucky Strikes every few days since moving to Spain, & yes to the tiny bump of Aderall effect. Writing on coffee just makes me jittery; wine doesn’t help after the first thirty minutes — but a half of a cigarette when you don’t have the tolerance of a pack-a-day smoker is a wonderful meditative tool. The focus feels like dialing in an optometrist’s lens. Billy Collins has a poem which I’ve only heard described to me second-hand about cigarettes being literary-industrial smokestacks — puffing away, you feel like a factory, like you’re producing something, there’s evidence of your labor in the ashtray.
“Someone should make a convincing case for the novel, journalism, print culture, and the rest as a function of tobacco use in Europe. The novel as a byproduct of nicotine…”
I like this. It’s like certain types of day or office labor impossible without the discovery or importation of coffee, or how everybody in the 50s was on phenobarbital. History expressed by the substances we use to alter ourselves.
I’ve started smoking one or two Lucky Strikes every few days since moving to Spain, & yes to the tiny bump of Aderall effect. Writing on coffee just makes me jittery; wine doesn’t help after the first thirty minutes — but a half of a cigarette when you don’t have the tolerance of a pack-a-day smoker is a wonderful meditative tool. The focus feels like dialing in an optometrist’s lens. Billy Collins has a poem which I’ve only heard described to me second-hand about cigarettes being literary-industrial smokestacks — puffing away, you feel like a factory, like you’re producing something, there’s evidence of your labor in the ashtray.
“Someone should make a convincing case for the novel, journalism, print culture, and the rest as a function of tobacco use in Europe. The novel as a byproduct of nicotine…”
I like this. It’s like certain types of day or office labor impossible without the discovery or importation of coffee, or how everybody in the 50s was on phenobarbital. History expressed by the substances we use to alter ourselves.
[…] was Nick Antosca’s post on HTMLGIANT about the benefits of smoking and writing. [Spoiler: It can heighten […]
God I miss smoking. Never more than when I’m trying to re-read and get my head back into yesterday’s writing. I’d always print off the pages and go light up outside. Now I light symbolic candles and feel, for a moment, a nice sort of romantic feeling inside all the warm glowing prettiness, but it sure as hell isn’t a cigarette and it sure doesn’t help me edit for shit.
How old is this post? I missed the boat on this one, but I’m glad it was here when I needed it. Thanks guys.