Prompt: Random Late-Night Ponderings
Midnight. The clock chimes, and the lights dim, as heads rest on softened pillows. The world is quiet. Silent. Almost. And yet, the world is so much more alive inside my head. I wish that I was an early bird that rises with the lark (as they say), and has everything in hand by lunch time. But no, I am a night owl. I seem to be even more inspired when I know that I have to be up early in the morning. It’s almost as if my body is sitting and laughing at me. Taunting me even. And yet, this is the perfect time to write. Why? Because everyone else is so busy sleeping, that there are more ideas and inspirations floating around for me to grab hold of.
I’m afraid of the dark, and yet darkness brings my creativity, as my mind overflows with words, and images, and characterisation, and I have practically no hope of getting to sleep. Not yet, anyway.
The hum of the fridge and the rumble of the 12:13 freight train. They are the soundtrack to my night time existence.
I sometimes fret about the idea that I can’t remember a lot of the things that I learnt in English, at School. What’s a metaphor? A simile? A miasma? What does onomatopoeia mean? And is that even how you spell it? How many syllables make up each line of a Haiku? I think I know the answer to some, but I’m never really sure. But then, are we so obsessed with the English “rule book” that we’re so busy procrastinating and we forget the most important part of writing: the actual writing.
There are no rules. Who says that a story has to start at the beginning? That it has to be narrated by the main character? Where is it stated that your Chapters have to be x-pages long?
So much time is wasted trying to check these tiny boxes, but we just need to actually write.
And, who says a whole chapter can’t be entirely dialogue. If it makes a point, who cares?
Write as you want, because for now, no one else matters.