Being an early riser, Ive never done much writing at night. I do work for an hour or two in the evening on occasion, but when I do, its usually to finish something Ive started earlier in the day. Its rare that I sit down after eight and begin a new work. I would much rather get up at four or five in the morning and start in with a fresh cup of coffee and a clean slate.

Despite this, every now and then I wonder what it would be like if I were to get into the habit of sleeping until noon, or even a little later, and working through the night. I especially wonder what effect this might have on my writing. I know I write at least somewhat differently according to the seasons or if the writing isnt different, then the subject matter is, and if the subject matter isnt different, then the way I approach it is. I think I am also more likely to remember certain events according to the seasons in which the events originally took place. And if that is the case, it stands to reason that I would think of things at night that I might not always think of during the day, and this in turn could mean that there is a whole vein of possibility that has thus far gone untapped, which is another way of saying that I might well be doing myself a great disservice by not writing at night.

This is something I should probably discuss with our youngest son, who at the age of eighteen actually does stay up most of the night reading and playing his guitar. He usually goes to bed at four shortly before I get up. Sometimes we meet in the hall when hes on his way to bed. The trouble is, in order to have this discussion, I would have to stay up as late as he does, and at that hour its unlikely Id be able to make much sense or listen critically. Unless heres an interesting idea: I could simply learn to play the guitar you see, this is how my thinking goes I could learn the guitar, and instead of talking, we could play our discussion.

By the way, its nine in the evening. What am I doing here? I should be in bed asleep, or reading, or outside taking a walk.

What happened is this: I did take a walk. And before that I wrote a short summary of Zorba the Greek, which I finished reading the other day and which turned out to be quite good. I also ate a small bowl of ice cream chocolate and vanilla: negative and positive, Christ and the anti-Christ or, in Star Trek terms, matter and anti-matter. Uncle Matter? Whats the matter? Pancake batter? And then for some strange reason I sat down here and started to type. You see where its gotten me.

Also by William Michaelian

Winter Poems

ISBN: 978-0-9796599-0-4
52 pages. Paper.

Another Song I Know
ISBN: 978-0-9796599-1-1
80 pages. Paper.

Cosmopsis Books
San Francisco

Signed copies available

Main Page
Authors Note
A Listening Thing
Among the Living
No Time to Cut My Hair
One Hand Clapping
Songs and Letters
Collected Poems
Early Short Stories
Armenian Translations
Cosmopsis Print Editions
News and Reviews
Highly Recommended
Lets Eat
Favorite Books & Authors
Useless Information
Flippantly Answered Questions
E-mail & Parting Thoughts

Top of Page
Old Notes
Current Entry