Sitting in front of my computer with the kids running around and the TV blaring in the other room, I found a profound sense of disharmony that quelched my current WIP. To put it in a nutshell: ever tried to write a horror story with the lights on? It lacked so much punch, held little nerve-tingling effect for me that I almost scrapped it. So, early in the morning before the sun invaded my gloom, I got up and started working on it again. Imagine the difference. As a wrote, every little noise echoed behind me. The sound of my breathing amplified. Even the feeling of the cold linoleum under my feet sent periodic shivers along my spine. What a difference indeed. From now on, there will be no writing when the world is alive and kicking, only writing when the dead stir in their grave and darkness covers the creepy crawlers skittering around my home.