The Writing Hours. Those moments where the muse is alive and creativity flows like a bubbling spring. For some these times rarely appear. For others there’s no such thing as a specific hour in the day. For me, it’s the late hours of night and on into the early morning.
Something about the clarity of a mind after waking up or getting that second wind long after the day has passed. It’s no longer boggled down by concerns or checklists. This is the time dreams remain fresh or small details begin to come back all at once to offer inspiration. Maybe it’s just the simple tranquility that comes with the soft sky and silent streets. There’s little pressure to be anywhere or to be anyone.
To do anything.
The world is still sleeping, waiting for the sun to beckon it into another busy day.
This is the time my muse decides to show and I have to say, it’s incredibly inconvenient. And yet…at the same time, it becomes one of the most serene experiences for me. This is the only time that I can write and truly enter the world that this story takes place. I care less about making the perfect sentence. I don’t quit after a few lines because I’ve written myself into a corner.
I just write.
I don’t always produce the work I want to. In fact, it’s rare I’m ever fully pleased with what’s in front of me, but writing during those hours somehow makes the process fun again. I get into the characters. I come up with about 10 different pathways to choose from. I let myself write. No over thinking. No frustrated sighs.
Just the story and myself.