The Only Way Out Is Through

by Sophie

ADDICTION

Our nation deals with addictive substances about as effectively as I used to deal with my son when he was a defiant adolescent: a lot of blustering, castigating, punishing, and imprisoning - and very little resultant change in behavior. When our efforts fail, we generally add layers of penalties and legislation and punitive taxes, and then drag in religious fervor and moralistic hair-splitting for good measure.



I spend a fair amount of time thinking about addiction and, in a broader sense, vice. It's the engine that drives a great deal of fiction, and for good reason. Just as a drink or two can strip away inhibitions, a descent or even a day-trip into vice can reveal a great deal about not just who your characters are, but who they are in relationship and who they are in society.

Not to mention the fact that people in altered states tend to do dramatic things, and dramatic things are excellent story foundation.

Here are a few accepted truths that I find, frankly, dubious - and which merit exploration in fiction:
1. Vice is bad. Asceticism is morally superior to indulgence.
2. A drunk or high person doesn't know what he or she is doing - "it's the drink talking," "I don't even know him any more."
3. Drugs are the enemy of society.
4. Sobriety eventually brings serenity.

Here are some things which I do believe are true, and which can fairly be considered to be boundaries in character behavior:
1. Addicts love their high more than any other relationships.
2. Sobriety is difficult and unlikely to stick.
3. Some people are more prone to addictive behaviors than others.


Addiction becomes, in the end, rather uninteresting (in my hands, anyway, but then that's probably because I'm not an addict - I love addiction memoirs for the stark and fascination portrayals of a world I haven't visited). What is much more compelling is the dance between a character and his psyche or demons or passions or whatever you want to call them, and the way this dance is enhanced/energized/endangered/frenzied - and occasionally numbed or killed - by the introduction of substance use.

Re-read, if you will, that last sentence - and note that I did not say "substance abuse." I firmly believe that not every dalliance with a drug is an abuse. And while you may disagree with my stance, perhaps you'll still grant me the liberty to explore it in fiction.

(My series for Harlequin Luna, debuting next March with AFTERTIME, features a recovering addict. I have found writing this character to be a deeply moving experience and I hope I have written her without judgement.)

*** The title of this blog comes from my favorite AA saying. I believe it is true of addiction recovery; I know it has been true of nearly every significant struggle I have faced.