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. 

Goodnight, friends. 

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