I am a nocturnal writer. a solitary writer. Nighttime is my time.
Like the perched owl within the dark forest looking for its prey, I embark on a midnight journey of writing... hunting for my nocturnal words. They are out there waiting to be plucked like stars out of the night sky... like silvery leaves off the sleeping trees... they are out there *silent* but there.
Inspiration sets in when the sun sets down, when the sky turns a haunting shade of black – it’s my time for my secret tryst with words and thoughts. My 'fictional' quill and ink does the rest like a loyal shadow...
Like the perched owl within the dark forest looking for its prey, I embark on a midnight journey of writing... hunting for my nocturnal words. They are out there waiting to be plucked like stars out of the night sky... like silvery leaves off the sleeping trees... they are out there *silent* but there.In the enthralling hours of darkness; reading thru my thoughts and capturing words... two persons surface from within me – the writer and the critic. They contrast, they compare, they clash, they concur. Sweet Triumph. A moment absolutely satiating... and the lingering bliss of it all as the words string together to become my next 'penned thought'! :)
“The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson