My eyes fly open: it is 3:37am. I reach for my book lamp, the path from under the covers to the tiny switch accomplished without a thought; the reflex of it is comforting as I sit up, rub the sleep from my eyes, and pick up my idea notebook. I had awakened a half-hour prior but had stayed firmly cocooned in the warmth of the sheets and comforters which, while protecting me from the cool of winter that flowed through the rest of the bedroom, still allowed enough room for my brain to psychically work out the intricacies of a story line. I bite my lip with anticipation as the 5mm No. 2 lead pumps from the tip of my well-worn mechanical pencil and transforms from a shaft of possibilities into a scratchy set of actual letters on a page. I move down a line from the title and the marathon begins.
The pixies over at the Daily Prompt have entered the inner sanctum of my cave. They poked and prodded with this interrogation:
When and where do you do your best thinking? In the bathroom? While running? Just before bed, or first thing in the morning? On the bus? Why do you think that is?
I wish it were always like this, that I always popped up and took down the wonderful stories and ideas that have come to me in the night; unfortunately I often fall into the trap of the anti-writing minions, who whisper in my ear at those times when I am snuggled deeply into my warm covers (You’ll remember it in the morning; just keep repeating that one bit to yourself. Nothing to it! they say).
I think I get my best ideas in the dark quiet of the night/morning because I was born at night. The darkness is life to me…