I am a night owl. This may, however, come as a surprise to my family. When I was a kid, I would wake up at the crack of dawn wanting to play and watch cartoons. (I still blame an early bedtime.)

But lately, combined with two months of unemployment and Starbucks scheduling me with closing shifts has turned me into a certifiable night owl. I can wake up early. I just prefer not to. And I'm really so much happier when I wake up around noon.

But none of this is the point.

The point is, when I'm up this late, when the rest of the world is sleeping and silent, I get the urge to write, something, anything. I feel this burst of creativity in me. But my brain is several steps behind my heart, as usual. I'm always without words, without subject matter.

I have a writer's heart, but not the mind.

I know what you'll say. All seven of you who read my blog and actually enjoy it will disagree, saying I write wonderfully here. (Especially you, mom. Thanks. ;) ) But I'm really just relaying real-life information, and not even very creatively, either. Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to demean blogging. My life just isn't all that exciting.

And the truth is, I long to create something original, to tell a story that means something, a story that no one has ever told before.

And so, in the late night/early morning hours, I open up my word processor and stare at the blank page, until depression or tiredness force me to give up and finally go to sleep, which is probably what I'll do tonight.




I have a writer's heart, but not the mind.