I never thought I'd have to run from the sun. Not these days.

But I have a new writing schedule.

It's up with my wife Christine when the alarm sounds. She's working from home, but she still starts at 8 a.m. and follows her usual morning routine of getting dressed and ready.

I write and do other work a while then stop for breakfast with her. Then I work out with You Tube videos or some days go for a walk--Emi Wong's a tough taskmaster.

Then...

well, Christine and I moved into our current location in 2019. It was planned as temporary while we looked for a house in Williamsburg. I first set my desk up facing a wall in my office, which on the blueprints is a second bedroom.

After lockdown had been going on a while, I decided it'd be better if it faced a window. There's more inspiration out a window. Right?

Except there seems to be very little movement out this window. Jimmy Stewart and Alfred Hitchcock would've been out of luck.

Occasionally, a neighbor across the way takes her kids somewhere or a guy who looks like Michael Ansara goes for a coffee, but otherwise it's a static view of the space with a couple of trees.

Even so, the spot has been fine since May or so. When did we start this?

Except now, with the coming of fall shortly after I return to my desk post-workout and shower--kind of my peak productive time for writing since I shift gears into creative writing teacher after lunch--the sun's boring right into my eyes.

The blinds don't stop it. Sol sends rays in through the cracks like spears.

So, when that happens, I pick up my coffee mug and head down to the sofa to work there on a laptop. I sneaker net my WIP on a jump drive--Long Waltz at the moment, the next Si Reardon novel.

I'm finding the process is maybe a bit helpful with the creativity. It's a matter of shifting gears a bit and it jostles the brain.

So maybe the hassle's not so bad.

Gotta go. The sun's just rising over the next building now. See you soon.