The Time for Writing | A Rose in Bloom
when is the best time of day for writing

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I used to be a night owl, once upon a golden time. When I was a teenager, my thoughts best collaborated under a starry night with the moon shining through my window. Now, I want nothing more but to rise early and write in the stillness of the cool morning. When the sun first begins to haze through the trees is the time I am able to sit in the stagnant tranquility and collect my thoughts.

I'm not really sure when this change occurred - sometime in the past few years, but I am grateful for it. It's probably all in my head, but I feel like I get a lot more done in my morning writing sessions than I did in my moonlight tirades. Maybe it is the feeling of time not being quite so infinite as it once was. After all, I eventually have to get up from my screen and accomplish other things, but when I was a moonlighter I acted like I had all the time in the world.

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Perhaps those were the words of youth. Maybe I am just getting older, but mornings are so much sweeter than I used to find them. The sounds are musical: birds warbling, insects just beginning to buzz, spiders making their morning catch, the burr of a coffee grinder singing. I also love the routine of a good morning: wake up, step outside in the fresh air, feel the warm summer sun and the coolness of a morning breeze, and come back inside to either write, make coffee, or pick out an outfit to match my mood for that day. Lately, that has been all about dresses.

kimchi blue button down midi dress

kimchi blue button down midi dress

I have been wanting a dress like this for rather a long time, but me being the patient buyer that I am, I waited until I saw what matched the sketch my mind had created. I knew I wanted blue and white stripes, I knew I wanted it sleeveless, and, although button down was not originally in my head, I am always a lover of front buttons. I wanted something that could be worn in a garden just as easily as in the middle of downtown (re: you will see this styled again, I am sure). Most of all, I wanted something that would inspire me to write, as I want for all of my clothes.

And I am inspired. Here I am. Here you are. Here we are all. Writing our own stories, singing our ballads. The time for writing is always in the present. This moment, now, in the haziness of a summer morning, or the depth of a starry evening.

When do you write, my friends? Is there a time when the chord rings in your chest and you know words must escape you?

Stay Beautiful,



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