Writing Experiment #1, (dis)continued

"When do you write?" I've been asked, sometimes by other writers looking for validation of their own quirky habits, sometimes by the curious unintiated who can't imagine spending any time at all doing such a thing.

I'd like to be able to reply with something witty or profound, preferably both ("Why, I'm writing even as we speak").

I'd like to be able to say, whenever I can snatch a moment alone with my notebook or computer.

But if I'm being truthful, I have to say, "Only in the evening."

And by that I mean, only in the evening between 8 and 9, because before that I'm eating dinner and watching something on the DVR (say, Project Runway or the Colbert Report) with Penny, and after that I'm likely to be enjoying a cocktail or a glass of wine before bed.

I've tried. In fact, this past week I tried not once, not twice, but thrice, to write in the morning, either before leaving for work or at Lincoln Street Coffee in Newton Highlands where I normally get my reading time in over a large cup o' Joe. Trying to create new writing habits this year, after all.

FAIL. I produced nothing from the blank pages other than one paragraph of freewriting that devolved into a To Do list, and a couple of elaborate geometric doodles.

Apparently I'm a receiver, not a sender, in the morning. I listen to my MP3 player, read, and eavesdrop on my fellow commuters as I start to make sense out of another day in the life.

After the sun sets is when I process it all, and make my home-made mental sausage.

And on that note, back to the grinder. It's not quite nine o'clock.