I find it easiest to write at night. There’s this seemingly infinite bubble of silence and darkness, with nothing else waiting for you. There’s no sun, no café, no friend, or commitment. There is darkness, and the occasional siren.

In my bed sometimes I hear cars go by my window, whether it’s the early morning or the late night. I find I often wonder what reason has these drivers up and going somewhere when the rest of the city is sleeping. Maybe it’s work, or maybe they can’t fall asleep. Maybe they’re looking for something. Or maybe they’re just going somewhere and it’s that simple. Sometimes I make up stories for where they’re off to and why. It helps when I want to go somewhere else, too.

On nights like these I wish I could walk around. I wish I could see the city lights in the darkness. I wish that being a girl wasn’t such a danger in dark streets after midnight. I wish I could be free to wander when I couldn’t sleep, too. Preferably sans car though. However, I digress.

Instead I find my freedom in writing. At midnight, with nothing wanting my attention my brain can be focused. It feels like there is so much more space inside my head. I can sit on my bed in my pajamas, and make myself a cup of tea. I open Word. And that’s all I need.

But in the morning it’s different. I’m distracted by plans, the weather, opportunities, texts, school, class, friends… It’s all noise in my head. And it’s so much harder to focus on what I’m trying to say.

Afternoons are better, because I feel like I’ve accomplished something in the day already. And I can sit in a café with a coffee and just write. But there are still distractions. People moving around, leaving and coming, conversations stirring the room around me, and a continual stream of coffee orders.

It’s at home in my bed where I write the best. With the curtains drawn and in the solitude I find in those nighttime moments I create my space. Call it my creative space or my personal space; it’s just where I like to write.