No, not that Twilight.
Early. Way early. Especially for me, a guy who digs his beauty sleep. (Though, it hasn’t helped much thus far.)
Even better, it’s this early and I’m up. Writing.
Do you know what’s happening at 4am?
Jack squat. For about three weeks now, I’ve been getting up before work and cranking out from four to six a solid one to two thousand words. At least three days a week. I’m averaging five thousand words of free words.
Yeah. Free. The words come no matter how busy my day. No matter how hectic my life is after work, or what social events hang in the balance. When getting the nursery is ready, and all I’d rather do is piss off with a glass of whiskey and vegetate in front of the television.
Five thousand words. No matter what.
But really, this progress is just a symptom. It’s an ailment to the greater infection. The disease?
Wanting it. Ambition. Desire.
My goal since November has been to write professionally. Not necessarily as a profession (I’ve yet to get paid for any of my words and baby needs a new pair of, well, frigging everything), but write in a way that respects the craft and respects the amount of hard work that it takes to get anything in this world. Professionally. Life will always be there, getting in the way, but if the need is great enough, you can make it happen.
Use the time you have. All of it. 4am included. And that’s my cheesedick advice for the morning. I know. It’s very Nike of me. But seriously. Wake up. Go for it. Follow your heart like a pro. There’s nothing to lose at 4am.
Just do it.