My favorite time to work is 3 am, when everyone is sleeping.
Always has been. It’s a different kind of quiet – there’s a kind of hush...all over the world.
When I was a kid, I once stayed up for three days – odd that – I think because I couldn’t stop thinking. I’m sure it was all very important stuff. Very heady ideas that would solve the problems of the universe. In college, I’d take 3 am walks on campus, looking for windows with lights still on, someone else who was pulling an all-nighter. Insomnia? Clearly. Fear Of Missing Out? Maybe a little. Out of body thought process? Always.
And still, when the Muse is away and I’m left to my own devices, I have every good intention of getting a good, long night’s sleep, but inevitably stay up drawing, writing, imagining, wide-awake-dreaming.
I wonder why that is? Something to do with the actual thrill of being able to conjure things up that didn’t exist before, something to do with an ongoing curiosity about literally everything, something to do with the fact that many people throughout my life have exited too soon, re-enforcing the fact that we could each get run over by a truck tomorrow, so max out on the time you’ve got.
Sometimes, I think of life as a theme park with many different lands to visit and rides to ride and we’re each handed a big spool of tickets that we rip off as you go. Some people fly through their tickets, others get comfy on a bench and watch the world go by. It’s all good. Whatever works for you.
But it’s just about 3:30 where I am and I think it’s time to get some sleep. Pencils down.
I work late at night. I’m awake and nobody bothers me.
It’s quiet and things come and talk to me in the silence.
- Diana Gabaldon