Honouring Nuit Blanche: A Writer Upon Waking

morning hairI woke up to find half of the day gone.

If you’re a hardworking, anxiety-addled-type-A-creative-spirit like myself, you know what these days are like. The days when you have been looking forward to. The days you’ve carved out time to just write, or draw, or paint, or contemplate.

You wake working the clock backward; what needs to be done, what do you want to get done, and how much time can you spend on each thing in order to make it happen. Is combing your hair absolutely necessary, and underwear,…really?

Coffee first. Steaming hot, rich, rocket fuel. Ah yes, gimmee some of that lovliness, and back the hell away until I’ve had a few cups.

My hair has more volume and curl than Madonna’s in the 80’s, and I still can’t see properly because I don’t have my glasses on. Sleep is still thickly fogging my vision. Who texted? Who called? Who commented, read, liked……Who cares.

I blink, still unable to see a darn thing. I stumble over my bare feet and a cat toy. More coffee.

12.5

The number of hours of sleep my body required last night.

No phone. No alarm clock,. No cats jumping at the bedroom blinds like lunatic gymnasts. No one to wake me with their snoring.

I needed that.

Time to pack my laptop, my underweared-self, and get the hell out the door before the guilt of must-do’s overwhelm my creativity and desire to write.

All creative folks need that. Protected time, away from anything that pulls at your conscience.

In the spirit of Nuit Blanche, I wish you a perfectly indulgently creative day!

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