Sleep, how important is it?
My body desires it but my “Author” despises it. No, this isn’t the start of a riddle (though I’m sure no one thought that), it’s the code of which my creativity lives by apparently. I know I’m not the only writer who feels this deeply. Sleep seems to be the kryptonite to my creative mind. The brilliant ideas, the cream of the crop, lay dormant during the day. It sits and festers, curating in the pot, careful not to spill over as I mull over it from sunrise to sunset. I try my hardest to write during the time my side of the world is awake, though I usually a fail. Sometimes I sit with my computer in my lap and stare at it until, magically, a game of solitaire appears. Once solitaire is up and running, the television cuts itself on to one of my favorite shows as ambient background noise. It’s crazy how that happens. By the time I should be going to bed (my husband is already snoring in peace) my brain has four cups of coffee.
I do my best writing when my body craves sleep. The past few nights, I’ve been up until five A.M., writing stories, blogging, and scrolling through the blogging groups. Could I force myself to sleep? Of course I can. The problem is, once I’ve slept without writing down those late night masterpieces, poof, they disappear by morning. It’s a curse that writers seem to have. That’s probably why there is so much magical fiction and fairytale stories. How can a writer not believe in that sort of thing when such a curse exists? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve stayed up writing and ended up with a hot bowl of crappy word soup too. These things are unavoidable. Nevertheless, late night hours are the peak hours of the imagination (in my opinion).