A Precious and Rewarding Morning Spent Writing

I am lucky enough to have a dog at home, and for the past nine years the dog has been very clear that she wants to go out early in the morning.

The birthday of my only child is this week, so I have taken the week off work. My child is asleep as I type this, still. I woke before six, walked the dog, then made a mug of Railtown coffee and took one biscotti from the tin, a cocoa biscotti with chocolate coating. My partner went back to sleep and I went downstairs, but not to the room I work in for my employer. I sat at the kitchen table, cleared of all flatware, with Pieces Of Novel spread everywhere. One happy fed dog retreated to her nap.

I am very thankful to have spent the last two and a half hours working out the first chapter of my next novel. The world is quiet, the neighbours' dogs are not barking, the lot down the street has all chainsaws and wood chipper and the backhoe silent, a brief respite in the ongoing [de | con] struction. Time to think, time to write, without interruption, when the day is fresh and full of potential. When anything might happen.

I hope you have a chance to get what I had this morning.

I know I am looking forward to morning after morning like today's morning.