Saturday, August 04, 2007

diving in

I wake up early on a Saturday morning. Weak light seeps in from behind the curtain. The sun has only just risen and its wintery presence is anaemic at best. There is no heat reaching this part of the world yet. Bed is alluring. Warm. A slumbering partner continues to dream. But my conscience drags me out of bed. Despite the fact my brain has yet to kick into gear, this is the best time of day for me to run my fingers over the keyboard.

I reluctantly get up and do what needs to be done in the bathroom, say good morning to the feline entourage in the living room and turn on the espresso machine. By the time I unplug the ibook and bring it to the nest I’ve created over looking the garden I feel the first flicker of hope. At that moment I feel totally unsure that I am going to able to write with a brain still so flat and uninspired. But I believe in the process.

It is a simple equation. Morning + quiet + coffee = words. Sometimes great, coherent words. Sometimes an entire mini chapter. I’ve become very precious about this time. It only lasts an hour or two and it rarely appears at any other part of day, I don’t want to squander it. I’ve learnt that my preferred place to write is in bed, all toasty warm while it is chilly outside but unfortunately a bed mate literally cramps my style as he stirs in his sleep and latches onto my right side, octopus like. The living room has its pitfalls. As it doubles as a dormitory for far too many cats, my lap is a kitty magnet – regardless if a computer is already occupying the space or not. I have one elderly, ailing cat breathing like Darth Vader due to a dose of cat flu, with a paw on a bit of my thigh and looking at me adoringly. There are stray hairs on my keyboard. My left foot is starting to go numb from being tucked under me – having chosen to sit on a lounge better suited to sprawling. I seek the light over comfort. This is the reason I don’t follow the sensible option and write in the study. It is dim in the morning, which makes working there so early on a weekend feel too much like a chore.

So all snug and settled, can I write? I think the best thing is to not ask that question. I pull up the latest piece of work and dive in.

I’ll see you in an hour or two.

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