For all of my fellow late night writers, I raise an eyelid to you! Awww, what the heck, both eyelids! We need a cool title or something...maybe The Night Writers. Something to encompass the awesomeness of rumpled pajamas, squinty eyes, and that chocolate bar you wouldn't have touched in the light of day. Because trade mark of a night writer? Very rarely do you get a five star dinner after midnight. No, we get a pickle, some Halloween candy, whatever leftover is wrapped in the least crinkly thing in the fridge, and a bleary-eyed stare at some steak or chicken or some such that requires an actual dish. Usually the dish you just dried and put away. Truly, there's a principle
to this--Mount Dishmore doesn't start its ascent until morning. I mean we have to draw the battle lines somewhere...still this is how pickles are eaten straight out of the jar and fruit isn't thrown directly into the trash. We obviously have no choice...
Still, it's the perfect time to scheme up a new storyline--a grand storyline of epic proportions! It'll have storyline turrets and moats... :)
There's a reason the night is so wonderful for writing--beyond the quiet that makes aluminum foil sound like crumpling sheet metal; beyond the rooms darkened until your computer's like a mini-sun of unflattering light; beyond the mesmerizing reruns and the fact that no one's asking you for anything so the time feels stolen and boy what a rush!--the reason it's wonderful is the magic.
It's the wind cartwheel brittle autumn leaves across the hardened ground, the moon high and full above, casting off a sheen of silver that lightens the world while deepening shadows. It's the still of a quiet night with an endless sky and a pattern of stars. It's a time to dream up monsters, lurking in the shadows and characters to defeat them, all hidden by the darkness--all unseen.
Night's always been a time to dream.
And so we do...
In the cavern of darkness beyond the mid of night, the snick-tick-klunk of tapping keys, the scritch-scratch-fwoosh of a moving pen becomes as natural as the wind, as thoughtful as the moon. It's weaving a story into the night of claws tapping against the window, of footsteps creaking down the stairs...
Some close their eyes to tell a story...and some write.
These are the late night chocolate eaters, the pickle connoisseurs, the things that look like the monster from the black lagoon in the morning and slowly unfold into something humanoid as the day progresses--they are...The Night Writers.