Maybe writers don’t write at night just to enjoy the silence and how it lets thoughts flow unhindered and allows imaginations to run wild without fear of being hunted down and tamed by society.

Maybe writers crawl the night to know why the stars never forget to shine in a cloud of overwhelming darkness and to listen to them tell the story of how every one of them grew his claws.

Maybe writers write at night just to escape nightmares, just to wear the dresses they are ashamed to wear in broad daylight, just to crawl out of their inky tunnel and dance to the forbidden songs in their heart as they examine their scars in the mirror of silence before the arrival of dawn- when the eyes of the sun puts all of our actions under Hawthorne effect.

Most nights, I fall asleep between my writing pad and laptop. I think a lot, sometimes, till I can feel my head literally heating up. These few years of writing has only taught me that talents are seeds and like any other seed we don’t just bury them in the soil and fold our arms.

Sometimes the rains would not come and you have to find alternative water sources. Then you will realize that if you plant hard work, you have to water it with diligence. I have learnt small droplets of water, if allowed to go dripping for long can erode self-doubt and dig a gully. Indeed, consistency is everything.