I’ve been reading advice on writing from various sources and the consensus seems to be; write first-thing in the morning. Apparently, that’s what many of the great writers do. Some wake up around 5:30 or even before and get right to work.
I pretty much always wake up early. Often before dawn. But unlike the great writers I’ve been reading about, I usually linger in bed waiting until the last possible minute before I need to leave for work, and then rush around to get ready.
One morning this week, as soon as I woke up, I decided to get up, brush my teeth, get dressed, and head downstairs to write. I had about two hours to write if I was to leave at my usual time.
I grabbed a glass of water with ice, and my laptop. I sat on the couch and started working on The Creeplies.
I was doing it! What I was writing was maybe not great, but I was doing it like the greats!
I was able to write for a full hour before I started to doze off. I turned off my laptop and took a nap on the couch. I figured I’d wake up when Chris would come downstairs to leave for work.
Although it wasn’t the perfect writing session, it was definitely a good start. I’m sure I can get used to this routine without even needing to nap.
When Chris came downstairs, I woke up. We talked a little, hugged, kissed goodbye. I drank my coffee, had a bagel, and then left for work.
As I was leaving home, there was a soft, light, fluffy, slow snow falling. The magical kind.
I got in my car, put on an audio book on writing, and drove off.
I was very much at peace. The romantic “life-is-wonderful” type of peace. I was even happy there was traffic because it meant I could enjoy more of the audiobook. Traffic usually makes me grumpy.
While I was driving, the woman narrating the audiobook was describing how writers typically feel when they sit down to write. She’s describing the doubt and self-loathing and struggle they may feel before being able to get a few words down. I tried to remember how I was feeling this morning when I was writing.
Immediately, I heard the deafening scream of a warrior as she was charging into battle. I could actually see her furrowed brow, her crazy eyes, her mouth stretched out in the scream. Her wild long brown hair dancing in the wind. Her right arm above her head wielding a heavy wooden caveman type club ready to clobber her opponent. I love that image! A warrior writer!
The rest of the morning was all pleasant conversations and compliments.
Now I don’t know if the early morning writing was responsible for the great start to my day, but I’ll definitely work on making it a habit, summon the warrior writer, and see what happens.