As I listen to Walk Like an Egyptian by The Bangles, I crack my knuckles, romanticise about the bass player, and get stuck into my new book by Nick McDonnell.
I like to read before I write. There’s an unmistakable transmutation of inspiration. I feel like I’m Nick McDonnell.
Other times, when the transmutation stalls, I steal his best work, like this.
“I THINK I know why you don’t drink,” said Alice. They were in a bar on Second Avenue that served kids. She was drinking a cosmopolitan; he was drinking coffee. “Why?” asked White Mike. “You like the power you have from being sober all the time around people who are fucked up.”