I tried to get up early and write before work. But the mental gymnastics I can go through in convincing myself that I don’t need to get up yet are truly amazing. I think my synapses could put Stephen Hawking’s to shame when I’m half-asleep and trying to convince myself I need more sleep.
Instead, I have been forcing myself to have better concentration after dinner. I can crank out a good amount of text then, even if it sometimes feels like my brain is swathed in warm towels and my fingers run at the speed of a paraplegic elephant.
There may be a time in my life that I jump willingly out of bed to greet the dawn and begin my daily communion with my keyboard. Until that day comes, I accept that the only time I will see dawn is if I have been up all night. I’m okay with that.