And so it is in the wee hours of the morning; I toss and turn and sleep no more, that I rise and surrender to being alive, fully awake earlier than planned, as usual.

It’s really the best time to write so why fight it?

I remember going to see Wayne Dyer a few years ago with my friend who has greatly admired his body of work for decades in LA and he shared with us his daily writing schedule.  He wakes at 4am and writes till everyone else awakens and then has breakfast, some exercise, writes some more.

Julia Cameron, one of my writing teacher idols, also has a structure to her day.  She rises early as well.

I do my best in the morning and I am pretty useless by nightfall so it stands to reason this is not such a bad thing – this not being able to sleep past 3:30-4am may be an impetus to get my writing life going, NOW.

As I toss and turn, I am thinking about all sorts of things.  Don’t you?

My best work, my finest sentences strung together are conceived not on the page but in my bed, forgotten by dawn.

Another handy place words magically come to me, is in the bathtub; surrounded by bubbles and too wet to write or devise an electronic device plan.  The shower, sometimes.  The most I can memorize is one sentence, so, frequently, I get out of the warm, lathered and scented liquid, specifically to jot down something sooner than anticipated, much to my dismay.

I carry a small Parisian-theme covered pocket book (handbag) blank notebook I was gifted in my purse.  It is still blank.  I tend to scribble on receipts and the back of business cards I have lying around in my car.  Because the best ideas are snippets and God forbid I should write in my pristine journal.

I don’t have one legal pad, because I like to write long hand a lot; it takes the thoughts and emotions right onto the page from my arm, NO, I have a rainbow colored one, the obligatory yellow, the college ruled with pretty designs and a collection of pastel wide-ruled beauties.

Spiral notebooks?  Anything the kids made me buy them when school started and they used once or twice or never are fair game and ends up in my collection.

I have a secret stash of pens, pencils and highlighters, too.  Doesn’t everyone who lives with school supply thieves called students?

I need structure even if it is loosely based and held to.  I have come to the conclusion that I will no longer fight off waking up when it is super delightfully quiet and dark.  I need to go with the flow and just rise.

I look forward to writing three straight pages of streamed consciousness, first thing in the morning.

Eventually, after eating, bathing, exercising and mind clearing, I work on a writing class assignment; whether it be a formal real live class or from one of my many self – instruction programs.

And, of course, writing on my webpage, here.  I promise myself to post by midnight everyday.  So far, it’s worked. Ninety pages in 90 days.

I am grateful for my writing life.  I solve stuff, I unravel dilemmas, it always without fail improves my mood, I get to know me better and I get to use my overactive imagination to co-create with my divine source in a healing manner.  This is where I need to be right now.

I found one of my favorite quotes back in 2009.  It is from a daily Zen calendar block where you rip off the day as you travel through the year.  I gave it to my husband for Christmas in 2008.  It just so happens to be on my late dad’s birthday, May 31 and I believe it to be a sign.

It states: To the right, books; to the left, a teacup.  In front of me, the fireplace; behind me, the post.  There is no greater happiness than this. Written by Teiga

I sit here and muse how simply perfect that explains things.  My husband must have thought it too and brought it home, knowing me well.

To the right, coffee mug – to the left, books and notepads and cell phone.  In front of me, a snuggled up cat on an animal print furry throw.  Behind me, my agenda and workstation. There is no greater way to spend my early pre-dawn hours.  – Cecilia