The Magic Hour

Once upon a time, there was a television show called “The Magic Hour.” It didn’t last very long, but it was Magic Johnson’s TV show. Around the same time, there was a movie called Twilight. It was originally called The Magic Hour. I honestly think if it were called The Magic Hour—like had that title onscreen—it’d make the movie a half star better. I need to watch it again, but I’m fairly sure. Titles matter. And so does the magic hour. Even though it seems like Raymond Carver stories exist only at the magic hour, it’s not a creative time. It’s a time for having a drink and appreciating sunsets or some such thing. It’s when you’d be watching a rerun instead of appreciating the natural world. It’s a distinctly uncreative time.

I wish I had time, on a regular basis, to do work during it. Figuring out work patterns is important. How recognizing standard moods can actually help creativity navigation. Or maybe just hacking it out is better. I don’t think it’s better. I mean, I’ve written a post on every single Friday the 13th movie; I know what hacking it out feels like. Today I worked on a new feature essay for The Stop Button. I haven’t decided if I’m going to put it up and then do a second part and third or just wait on it. And I’ve just now discovered there’s some kind of syncing issue so I’m going to freak out because the end of it is missing. I need to stop using the same folder in Dropbox for all my text. So I guess I won’t be worrying about posting it today.

I’m bad about keeping writing organized these days. Before, I always had a great system. Or at least thought I did. Now I think I have a terrible system because things like this sync error keep happening. And I never learn from it because I assume it’ll just be all right the next time. It’s because I loathe every complicated word processing app. All of them try too hard, none of them are simple enough.

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