Real Writing in the World #2: Become a Midnight Writer

Writing on the dark side.

A little over ten years ago, I went to Reykjavik, Iceland for a wedding and my flight landed late at night. By the time I settled down in my hotel and was ready to climb into bed, the digital clock on the nightstand read: 00:00.

It was totally disconcerting and disorienting. Had I fallen into “no-time”? I was tired from traveling most of the day but sat on the bed staring at the clock until it changed to 00:01 (which didn’t make it less strange but at least we were making progress).

In the U.S. this wasn’t something you usually saw. Or maybe it’s been around a while and I just didn’t own appliances/tech toys that employed the 24-hour clock.

It got me thinking about that transition between night and day—standing on that threshold, moving through that liminal space before entering the other side. What might be possible in that space if it was engaged with intentionally?

We’ve all been writing at midnight at some point when the words were flowing, or because that was the only time we had, or we were on a deadline—self-imposed or otherwise.

This is different. This is choosing the gap, the boundary crossing, the darkness, and finding those things in yourself.

Midnight writing taps into the unconscious, the dream space the waking mind usually overrides. This place can hold your deepest and best writing and midnight writing opens to door to this treasure trove, allowing you to be alone with your thoughts.

Are you in?

The exercise is best done on a weekend or when you don’t have to be up early. Make sure your curtains block moonlight or streetlights. Cover them with blankets if not.

• Prepare the space—have water, a notebook and pen/pencil next to the bed. No laptops, phones, or voice recorders—it’s important to be physically writing with paper and pen/pencil. This engages more neurons and parts of the brain than a computer does, including memory. And, no light, remember?

• Set your alarm for midnight and go to bed early—at 9 or 10 p.m. or earlier. Just early enough that you get 2-3 hours of sleep before the alarm goes off. If you have trouble falling asleep, go to bed earlier.

• When the alarm goes off, don’t try to shake off sleep and wake up fully.

• In the dark, grab the notebook and pen or pencil and just start writing. To warm up ask yourself: how does this feel, being alone in the dark?

• Or jump straight to: what does this space hold for me?

• If you’d like to distance yourself from your room, imagine there’s a door in front of you. You can’t see it, but you reach out and feel the doorknob. Open the door and step through, then ask yourself the question.

• Bring yourself back if you wander off and start thinking about the day before or the day to come. If you feel uncomfortable or anxious, ask yourself why.

• THE BIG QUESTIONS: what am I afraid to know? What am I afraid to feel? What could I be/do/have if I would get out of my own way? What do I want to cut out of my life? This could be a relationship, a house, a job, a habit, anything. (Whichever one of these hits you in the gut is what you should write about.)

• You can also write about a secret (must be yours) or a wish/desire. You can tear it up afterward if you need to.

• Write for as long as you can. You may fall asleep and that’s okay!

Don’t worry if you have trouble visualizing. This is in the dark for that reason. You don’t have to see anything. If you do, great, but this is more about sensing your way, which is how writing works most of the time, with flashes of images, voices, feelings, faces. If you’re lucky, sometimes long movie-like passages.

Whatever happens, don’t turn on any lights. Write in the dark. Your mind is still in that in-between place and the usual filters aren’t working. Turn on the light and you turn on the filters. Turn on the light and you separate yourself from the dark—everything becomes solid and real.

After a few times doing this exercise, you can try programming your mind before bed:

• Read some poems by other poets that inspire or challenge you.

• Read the poem or part of an essay or novel or nonfiction piece (whatever it is) that you’re working on but that’s stuck or you are having trouble starting or finishing.

• Write down your question about the piece or a few words or sentences toward what you’re aiming for.

• Use this time to also dive into parts of your poems or prose that you find difficult. Need to write a sex scene or kill off a character or find the core of a hurtful/embarrassing experience? Write it in the dark.

• When the alarm goes off, write focusing on the piece.

Here’s the deal: You should feel excited, terrified, and a bit nauseated regularly when you’re writing. If you’re not, there’s a whole world inside you to discover! And this is a way to do that. You don’t have to feel these things every time you write and it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong if there are just glimmers.

It just means, if you try these exercises, thrilling writing experiences await you! And await your reader. If you’re not feeling it (whatever “it” is—excitement, fear, sadness, longing) when you’re writing—whether on your own behalf or that of your characters—you will not imbue your writing with it and it won’t come through to your readers so they feel it.

This is a superpower you can and should take advantage of and the whole point of this newsletter—to share exercises and opportunities for three-dimensional writing with you.

Watch the amazing film Like Water for Chocolate to see what I mean. But with moderation! Definitely don’t follow Tita’s path. :)

The movie is based on a book.

The more you practice midnight writing, the more what’s in that no-boundaries place will slip in at other times because you’ve welcomed it.

It’s tempting to ask others to do this with you and then compare notes in the morning or text each other during the exercise, but knowing someone else is also participating means you’re not alone. You will start wondering how it’s going for them, comparing your experience. They will be a sort of witness, whether you share your writing or not (please don’t!) and you will unconsciously censor yourself.

And, yes, what comes out in midnight writing may be gritty and scary and surprising and keep you up the rest of the night.

If that happens, keep writing. Write your way out.

The point of an exercise like this is: no safety net.

Here’s your cue:

Happy midnight writing,

Chris

Your next writing adventure awaits you…