Last night, at the wee hour of 9 PM, I was nestled in my bed, candle burning gently alongside, a single lamp shining light off the walls, and a computer perched on my lap. The electric blanket warmed my toes, and the ethereal musical tones of Florence + The Machine hung in the air.
And I–the dutiful writer that I am–was writing diligently in Chapter Five which contains, among other things:
- A Hat
- Alley Trash
- Unexpected garrote
Unfortunately, the soporific circumstances surrounding me caused me to drift away under Morpheus’ guidance. In short? I kept falling asleep while writing.
Now, I don’t mean that I was falling asleep instead of writing. No. I mean I fell asleep WHILE writing.
Case and point: I was writing, fell asleep, and continued writing. This is what I woke up to having written:
I dont’ know how to answer. I don’t ahve proof. The instinct of “I feel it” instaded o dri
Yeah. Aside from the two blatant typos, the sentence just kind of blows up. And then the fragments of blown-up sentence get together, throw a party, and just stop making sense.
So is this a new level of commitment, laziness, multitasking, or pitifully early bedtime rituals?
AND YET! It brings up the important issue of a writing environment. If you’re embarking on the insanity of NaNoWriMo, it’s important to know where and when you can work.
- Handwriting scenes while at work? Sure.
- Dictating into a Recording App? Only if you like the sound of your own voice on tape.
- Furiously typing while waiting for your coffee order? Absolutely.
- While falling asleep in bed? See above example of nonsensical word-mush.
The best advice is the only advice: Just keep writing!
And if you fell asleep like I did and ended up with around 1300 words instead of the goal of 1667, be sure to make up for the next day. Just don’t attempt to do so while swaddled in a comforting nest of blankets (especially if you have a lit candle nearby).