Like many a famous writer, I’m often hit with inspiration after a cocktail or two. Inhibitions drop, and thoughts flow more freely and organically. My fingers type until my brain realizes it let its guard down and catches up to stop the madness. These extended ramblings are proofread the morning after and edited to be legible. But, while they have the most potential, they retain the original rawness and lack of structure and coherence that keep them from being actual stories.