Writer time.

Once again, it's writer time.

Seven AM.

The sun is up, and gold shines through the plate-glass.

The only other sound's the sweep of white noise from the ceiling.

It's writer time.

Time for thought.

For typing.

For thinking and typing.

Without the cacophony of the day.

Without the beeps and dings and chimes and interruptions of 'can you take a look at this,' or 'I'm sorry to bother you,' or 'can I jut ask you one question.'

It's writer time.

Time to let my thoughts out--the thoughts I walked home with, the thoughts I had last night at three.

It's time to write without self-consciousness. Without wondering what he'll think, or what she'll say, or even what the brief tells you to do.

But time to write.

To see where your brain and your fingers take you.

It's writer time.