There’s a specific hour when your brain goes quiet in a way that feels personal. The cursor blinks like it’s judging you. Your hands hover over the keyboard as if inspiration might arrive via muscle memory..

There’s a specific kind of quiet that shows up when nothing is expected of you. No response time, no metrics, no one on the other side of the screen pretending to care.

You don’t start by writing. You start by method acting. Knowing your character isn’t enough. Losing yourself has to happen.