(A pseudo-followup to my last post.)
I’m a morning writer. The earlier, the better. Before the world has really woken up, and while it’s still quiet and slowly brightening outside. When there are only a few lights on in the building across the street, curtains left open and lamps left on. Hearing the small sounds of the person in the apartment above me starting her day. I lead a pretty quiet life anyway, but there’s something about that small window of time that seems kind of perfectly made for me to get into that weird headspace necessary for writing.
Lately I’ve been finding myself awake 30-60 minutes earlier than usual, so I make myself comfortable in the office, turn on a dim light, and work as much as my still-foggy brain allows. I don’t do it every day – in fact, if I plan it out the night before, I can guarantee that’s the night my dog has a very loud yippy dream that wakes me up at 2am. But the days I do get to do it are the best.
The trick then becomes hanging on to that “this is the perfect writing time” feeling at other times during the day, when various trucks are beeping outside and the light of the sun bounces in that particular way off the floor that sears right through my retinas. (Apparently I have various problems with the sun.)