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Not every day you see the sunset and the sunrise...
Who: Nate & Albus
What: Out and about
Where: Starbucks / the park
When: 7-7:30 AM
Nate felt wired. He was up much later than he thought, but he was finally writing the last chapter of his newest novel and he was worried to stop. He’d been mainlining Hersheys and Dr. Pepper for the past hour. He considered switching to coffee, but that took time to make and he wasn’t leaving his computer for more than the minute and a half it took him to go to the bathroom. His fingers were barely moving fast enough for his sugar-high brain that he felt like he was making quite a few errors, but typos he could deal with another day. Right now he needed to purge himself of the words cluttering his brain.
Typing out everything and barely reading it, he felt drained and also wired. His head killed, his fingers felt ready to blister, and his back was very sore from sitting for so long in such an uncomfortable position. His eyes were straining for staring at a computer screen for so long and he’d long lost feeling in his legs. He had already been editing for hours before his muses decided to grace him at 3:20 AM. But as a writer he was used to random bouts of creativity, though since college he’d started to try and train himself to keep a somewhat more normal schedule. The past week, however, he’d found himself easily distracted and unable to finish his first draft, which his publisher wanted on Monday. Nate supposed he’d always been one to work best under pressure, but he almost felt ready to vomit. Or maybe that was the result of too much sugar. He was so going to regret this in the morning.
Once again trying to focus back to the world of Charlotte Hanley and her investigative team, he wondered if she was going to get out of this latest predicament without the loss of a team member particularly close to her or if she was going to save the day at the last minute. He was as invested as any of his fans, the characters had a life of their own and he was merely the conduit to the page. People thought he was crazy, he preferred eccentric, but he loved to write. Not to mention finally getting paid a living to do so, which was even better. He glanced at the clock, which now read 5:57 AM. He was still wired, not sure when he was going to crash but as it seemed to be no time soon, he decided a shower and some real food might be a good idea for his system. Quickly showering, forgoing shaving, Nate got dressed and stared at Albus who was looking at him sadly, then back to his food bowl. “Okay boy, breakfast,” he nodded, filling the dog’s bowls before his own. He looked back to see how many pages he’d done in the early morning hours and decided an actual coffee was the least he could do to treat himself. He grabbed his messenger bag and Albus’ leash before heading out the door.
He was blessed, or cursed depending on your point of view, to live just two doors down from a Starbucks. At just shy of 7:00 AM the lines were already forming with the early workers. Lucky for him, he had connections and traded first editions for line-cutting privileges with the petite goth girl who was a barista there. She made his latte and handed it to him from the side, to the groans of half the line. With a smile and a finger salute, Nate left the store, tossing a doggie treat to Albus before heading towards the park, wondering who all was up at this time of day.
What: Out and about
Where: Starbucks / the park
When: 7-7:30 AM
Nate felt wired. He was up much later than he thought, but he was finally writing the last chapter of his newest novel and he was worried to stop. He’d been mainlining Hersheys and Dr. Pepper for the past hour. He considered switching to coffee, but that took time to make and he wasn’t leaving his computer for more than the minute and a half it took him to go to the bathroom. His fingers were barely moving fast enough for his sugar-high brain that he felt like he was making quite a few errors, but typos he could deal with another day. Right now he needed to purge himself of the words cluttering his brain.
Typing out everything and barely reading it, he felt drained and also wired. His head killed, his fingers felt ready to blister, and his back was very sore from sitting for so long in such an uncomfortable position. His eyes were straining for staring at a computer screen for so long and he’d long lost feeling in his legs. He had already been editing for hours before his muses decided to grace him at 3:20 AM. But as a writer he was used to random bouts of creativity, though since college he’d started to try and train himself to keep a somewhat more normal schedule. The past week, however, he’d found himself easily distracted and unable to finish his first draft, which his publisher wanted on Monday. Nate supposed he’d always been one to work best under pressure, but he almost felt ready to vomit. Or maybe that was the result of too much sugar. He was so going to regret this in the morning.
Once again trying to focus back to the world of Charlotte Hanley and her investigative team, he wondered if she was going to get out of this latest predicament without the loss of a team member particularly close to her or if she was going to save the day at the last minute. He was as invested as any of his fans, the characters had a life of their own and he was merely the conduit to the page. People thought he was crazy, he preferred eccentric, but he loved to write. Not to mention finally getting paid a living to do so, which was even better. He glanced at the clock, which now read 5:57 AM. He was still wired, not sure when he was going to crash but as it seemed to be no time soon, he decided a shower and some real food might be a good idea for his system. Quickly showering, forgoing shaving, Nate got dressed and stared at Albus who was looking at him sadly, then back to his food bowl. “Okay boy, breakfast,” he nodded, filling the dog’s bowls before his own. He looked back to see how many pages he’d done in the early morning hours and decided an actual coffee was the least he could do to treat himself. He grabbed his messenger bag and Albus’ leash before heading out the door.
He was blessed, or cursed depending on your point of view, to live just two doors down from a Starbucks. At just shy of 7:00 AM the lines were already forming with the early workers. Lucky for him, he had connections and traded first editions for line-cutting privileges with the petite goth girl who was a barista there. She made his latte and handed it to him from the side, to the groans of half the line. With a smile and a finger salute, Nate left the store, tossing a doggie treat to Albus before heading towards the park, wondering who all was up at this time of day.