Why I Love Mornings

I am a morning person; thus, I love mornings. I specifically love early mornings. The time between 5 a.m. and 7 a.m. is precious. Those hours are not yet filled with the yammering of my brain and all its thoughts of what I need to do haven’t been doing. My mind is quiet. It’s ready to work. It’s ready to write.

My morning has a set routine unless I’m planning to go for a run: I check my blood sugar and have some breakfast. I open my MacBook Pro and wait for it to whir to life. It isn’t a long wait, but it’s long enough for me to decide to heat some water for a first or second cup of cappuccino, my preferred drink.

I open my word processing program and pause. Some days, I don’t know what I’ll write. Other days, I have a list of topics and already have prepared myself for this moment. I may not know all the words, but I have a beginning. Most days, the beginning is enough. It gets me to where I’m supposed to go.

In the midst of this, I realize I have abandoned my cup of hot water to the microwave. I feel a twinge of regret as I truly did want that cup of cappuccino. If I’m not too far into a draft, I might rescue the cup or reheat the water. Other times, I’m too far into the writing to leave my spot at my table. I am here, and the words are coming. I can’t leave, not even for the briefest of seconds. I have to stay and work. I have to follow the words to their conclusion.

It’s 8 a.m. now, and it’s time to move forward with the day. Will I try to protract my writing time until nine or ten or will I check email and get on the internet to find my next pitch? The answer depends on the day, the words, and myself. Some days, I can extend the writing. Other days, the time of writing has ended. I can feel it as the words come more slowly or as my mind begins to dart from task to task. It’s alright; I know the words are there. I’ll find them again another morning.

Image: Ben Faulding (CC BY NC 2.0)