When I was in high school, I used to get ideas in the middle of the night. I used to sit at my window-desk at the top of the house and write while everyone else was sleeping, or wake up with half a poem in my head and flick on the light so I could scribble it down before it disappeared.
That doesn’t happen much anymore. Probably because I’m not awake in the middle of the night. If I am, I’m thinking, “must get up in four hours. Must go to sleep right now. No, now. Now. Go to sleep. Right now.” Somehow, that’s not so conducive to inspiration.
But last night, just as I was drifting off to sleep I was thinking about a place in my writing that’s been a bit stuck. And an idea arrived, fluttering through the dark and into my muddled thoughts like a gift.
Best of all, I still remembered it this morning.