You wake at dawn. Coffee, then a long walk through the park. Ideas arrive slowly, like clouds forming overhead.
You wake to rain. Tea at the window. The entire morning spent reading. Ideas arrive all at once, like a downpour.
Afternoon light slants gold through the window. You write three pages. The ending surprises even you.
The rain stops. You step outside and find the city washed clean. You sketch instead of writing. It feels right.