I was irresistibly drawn to the above words today. Not for their original, intended meaning, but in a deeply intense, personal manner. As my ‘About’ section suggests, I am a midnight writer, and begin writing usually after the witching hour has begun. My eyes often sting, and I have to flail my thoughts in to some semblance of order before they can emerge on to page or screen. I do my Nine to Five and relish family time, as everybody does. Then comes the night, and my chance to dream. I have a few scant hours of quiet and calm in which to create things. I love this time, and throw myself in to it. If I am lucky, then someone or something gives me heavenly glimpses. Tantalising images or thoughts of what I should write.
So it is that there is something powerfully seductive about writing for me. I love it. I am in awe of it. The day sometimes brings me inspiration. Fuel, and accelerants. Flashes of inspiration that ignite something. They smoulder and burn away during the day only to be filtered and purified in a crucible; removing vagaries and inferior materials to reveal a sculpted, pared down core. These flashes could be anything. The look in a person’s eyes. A colour happened upon by chance.A resonant sentence, partially hidden by a crumpled bookmark, as happened today. I am writing this a full eight hours before I usually would do. As an experiment. Afternoon writing. Afternoon delight: it lacks both the glamour and the potency of night.
© Tom Tide 2016