It’s 11:30 pm on a Tuesday. My partner is asleep in the next room and I am sitting with my laptop on the kitchen counter. I live in the centre of the city, in close proximity to an assortment of pubs as well as a train station and tram stop. The overflow of chatter, buses, and cars stopping and starting at red lights creep through the kitchen window. The flicker of candlelight and the glow of my screen is all that illuminate the room. I am finding that I do more of my writing in the late hours of the night these days. My daytime schedule has been so jammed the last few months; I've struggled to find the clarity or headspace I need to write. Naturally, work takes precedence during the day. I used to write feverously in the early mornings; in the same spot of the house I am writing now. The only difference was the absence of chatter and vehicles as the world hadn’t woken up yet. Absent the chirping of birds, the streets were still.
When things change, people have a tendency to adapt. Or…