It’s 10 o’clock at night. I am finally home from band practice. I’m home from work. I’m exhausted. I’m ready to lie down and allow these heavy eyelids the rest they demand.
But no. I have been encouraged, pressured and challenged to write every night. I have fifteen minutes to invest into my writing. I can stave off sleep for another 20 minutes; fifteen for writing, five for getting ready for bed.
Now I write. Ten-thirty I sleep.
Does going to bed this early make me old? That’s another post. Right now my protagonist is telling a story that I must put down on paper.