Here comes the sun

Last week, one of my closest friends in New York abandoned me. Can you believe that? He just up and moved to that other coast. Freaking Los Angeles! Except that he's going to do something amazing -- something that a lot of people, especially here, and especially me -- can only fantasize about. Yes, that's right, he's off to Hollywood to make porn.

Kidding.

Really.

He left me to write. He's going to be incredible. He IS incredible.

But enough about him. This blog is about ME, remember?

At his second going away party (dude knows how to make an exit), I met one of his college roommates for the first time. This guy had just flown into NY because his play is about to be produced. His. Play. Produced. Incredible. We got to talking about writing and the writer's struggle to make time to do what you love to do while still working 100 hours a week in a job that can actually pay your rent. Or close enough.

Early in the conversation he asked me what time I wake up in the morning. A complicated question for me because, well, it varies wildly. But without going into my running schedule, or my work schedule, or lack thereof, I said eight. He replied, "get up at five." I pretended not to really hear him. But then he made his case. And it was similar advice to what the books and the blogs and lions, tigers and bears suggest - you just have to train yourself to make the time. But, unlike the books, etc. this guy had literally just flown in because rehearsals were starting on HIS play the next day. So he did it. Why would I not take the sage advice of someone sitting in front of me saying this is what you have to do to do what you want.

I woke up at 5am this morning. I had my alarm set for six, except that I wasn't really sleeping much anyway -- too nervous that on my first day of doing this I would crap out. So I showered, ate a delicious bagel, and have been sitting here staring at my computer for at least the last hour. Daylight is beginning to fill the living room window. I accomplished this blog post. Which, well, is something. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know. And my writing is equal to or greater than that of Roman scholars. I mean, obviously. Have you not read this always-riveting blog?