Here, on the fecund subject of drink, are two famous novelists:
I began writing in fearful earnest—my mind zoomed all night every night, and I don’t think I really slept for several years. Not until I discovered that whisky could relax me. I was too young, fifteen, to buy it myself, but I had a few older friends who were most obliging in this respect and I soon accumulated a suitcase full of bottles, everything from blackberry brandy to bourbon.
Whatever part drink may play in the writer’s life, it must play none in his or her work.