The alarm sounds on my iPhone. It’s 5:30 a.m. Not immediately, but a few minutes later, I quietly rise and make my way across the dark room. Fumbling in the blackness, I locate socks, a sweatshirt. Put them on. Quietly now, although the old floorboards make sonic discreetness difficult, I tiptoe to the door. Remember, don’t decide now, I remind myself. Trust that ideas will surface. Which is difficult since I’m such a planner. Behind the door, cloaked in shadow, I am greeted by The Committee: two striped cats, purring. Waiting for their breakfast.
All of us, members of The Committee and I, silently pad down the stairs to the first floor, where kibbles and a computer await. I step carefully, avoiding a fur-laden misstep that could result in a face-first disaster. At the bottom of the stairs now. Around the corner we go, where two white ceramic dishes are ready to be filled.
With The Committee now engaged in their first round, I breathe. Across the room I head, where the laptop awaits. Trust that ideas will surface, remind myself. Everyday. Time to write my slice of life.
What is your writing routine?