Thoughts: May 26, 2016

My dog, Whittaker, has given up trying to hop up on the bed with me, and lies snoring on the carpet. It's just past 1 a.m., the dark bedroom awash in the faint blue glow of a phone. I'm watching the minutes creep. Tick, tick, tick.

The mind is at war with the body, a denouement of five feverish hours spent writing today, unbroken save for a 20-minute walk on a nearby trail at lunch.

It's doubtless a positive exercise, one of the most productive days I've had in some time. But sustaining even a semblance of creativity for that long isn't easy. Working with focus over the course of several hours means I have to get to a place mentally from which it isn't easy to return. There's no on/off switch.

Thus, I've entered into diplomacy with myself, only one person representing both sides of a tense negotiation.