I woke up early this morning to start writing. It is still dark outside. The birds are just now starting to sing. I have no idea what I’m doing or why I am doing it. I had the thought that writing might be easier first thing in the morning, and that I might sneak my way back into the story by jumping into it fresh from last night’s dreams. A bit like ledge jumping from one roof to another. I didn’t make the leap.
194 words. None of them particularly interesting or useful.
I am not complaining. I only want to document that this moment happened. I woke up at 6am. I got dressed. I started writing. I was here. I understand that this is how this works.