I love nighttime. Left to my own devices, I am definitely a night owl. Sadly, annoying things like day jobs and bosses get in the way of me achieving my true potential - which really only happens at about 3am on weeknights, 4am on weekends. I like the feeling that I just might be the only person awake in a 50 mile radius. I know it's unreasonable to believe that, but I still like the peace and silence, the feeling that I'm getting away with something a little bit weird and no one is awake to see it. It's isolating but majestic at the same time. There's an amazing lack of pressure late at night - you don't have to be anywhere or see anyone if you don't want to. You don't have to worry about the weather, really, because there's no real urge to go outside. Your body usually isn't hungry by then, so you don't feel the urge to go stuff your face with anything - cravings are silenced, people are quiet, and you can just be yourself.
Last night I woke up at around 4:15 AM and I enjoyed the fact that I was, really, alone. Sure, my husband and dog were asleep a mere couple of inches from me, but they were dead to the world. I probably could've blown a fog horn and they would've been none the wiser. I nestled down into my pillows and had a half-dream about my novel, composing in my head. What would happen when my main characters finally decide they're ready to fall in love with each other. How to handle this really slow scene I'm currently plodding my way through, sentence by sentence. Every so often nudging my husband to stop snoring. And it was all fine - leisurely, kind of sleepy, full of contentment. I wish I could effectively write from bed. Unfortunately, a laptop is a bit cumbersome (and would eventually wake the hubs up), and dictation software is iffy at best - plus again, no talking.
The problem is, the mood gets all ruined if you get out of bed. I don't know about you, but we try to save a dime by not running the heat in rooms we aren't using. So if I were to plod into my study and try to write, I'd have to shiver under my snuggie (yes, I wear a snuggie) for about 15 minutes while the room got good and toasty. By then, I'm too awake from being cold, so there's not much inspiration left 'cause my toes are fighting frostbite. This is why I love warm weather. In the summer, I can see myself sneaking out of the bedroom, huddling under a blankie (for secretive purposes, not for warmth) and just writing contently until morning. Really, for me, atmosphere is everything when I'm writing. It can't be too sterile and organized, but it can't be a jumbled mess either. I guess that's why I like it to be a bit dim - I can ignore everything else (whether messy or clean) and just write.