Nighttime is the right time to figure out how to tell stories. To stare at the structure of a play and overthink form. To stress that things are too literal or too magical or not important enough.
Nighttime is the right time to figure out what exactly I am reacting to. What issues are sticking to my bones and what research needs to be done.
Nighttime is for anticipatory silence, for the stars, for caffeinated drinks, for headphones, for a dangerous peace.
Nighttime is when you don't know what to write anymore, when you stare at your play and think it's not timely enough, that this is not the story we need to hear right now. And yet you can't define what story needs to be told cause there are a billion things that need to be said and that makes you stop in your tracks.
Nighttime is the time I find my voice. It silently bounces off the bedroom walls, slams into computer keys, and fills up docs with underlined misspellings.
And owning the night, giving a space for it, that is the hard thing. And tonight wasn't so bad.
