Pouring with Care: Notes from the Writing Process
I’m still writing. Still learning. Still wrestling with how to tell a story that’s not just mine—without rushing the pour. This is a reflection on the conflict between the desire to publish and the responsibility to get it right.
When I first started writing Pints and Power, I thought I understood the story I was telling. I was following a thread I could feel in my chest—emotional, cultural, deeply resonant. A thread that led back to Arthur Guinness, to 1759, to that mythic 9,000-year lease. It felt solid. It felt real.
But as the work unfolded, I began to realize: I wasn’t really writing about the Guinness of the 18th century.
I was writing about the Guinness we feel today—refined, global, symbolic. A pint that travels across oceans, gets poured with ritual, and carries meaning far beyond its ingredients. That’s not the world Arthur Guinness knew. That’s the result of centuries of evolution—of industrial ambition, cultural reinvention, and yes, brilliant marketing.
What I was tracing wasn’t a straight line from past to present.
It was a feeling passed from person to person, generation to generation, pour to pour.
And that raised a question I’m still sitting with:
How do you honor a story that isn’t fully yours to tell—without stepping outside your lane, or softening its edges to fit your own lens?
That’s the tension I’m holding.
The desire to write something meaningful.
And the responsibility to get it right.
Because Pints and Power isn’t just a book—it’s a process. A listening. A reckoning with identity, memory, myth, and marketing. And the closer I get to the heart of it, the more I feel the weight of representing not just a brand, but a legacy that belongs to millions of people—some of whom lived it, some of whom carry it, and some of whom poured it into my glass.
So this is a checkpoint. Not a confession. Not a disclaimer. Just a moment to say:
I’m still learning. Still refining. Still asking whether I’ve earned the right to speak—and how to speak with care.
How shall I answer this question?
Well—for one, do the work.
What began as a free-form, stream-of-consciousness project has grown into something more deliberate. I’ve spent the last stretch diving into legitimate historical sources, firsthand accounts, and cultural commentary. It’s not about turning myself into a historian—it’s about not pretending to be one.
My bibliography is posted here on the site, so anyone can see what I’ve leaned on along the way.
Maybe that’s what writing this kind of book demands:
Not answers.
But attention.
Not certainty.
But stewardship.
So here’s where I am:
Still pouring.
Still listening.
Still trying to let the story settle before I call it done.
Sláinte.
—Mike
