I can write ‘Morning People’ (or, as they can alternately be called, ‘Not Evening People’) pretty well since I am one.

When I was in college, I tried being an evening person.  You know, staying up til all hours trying to get projects finished for classes.

It wasn’t until after I graduated and discovered (through an odd series of events) that I did much better work much faster in the mornings than I did at night when everyone else was grabbing coffees and getting down to brass tacks.

What should have been a dead giveaway to my  inability to work at night is that, unless I was careful to prepare myself with attitude and caffeine, I would start becoming useless by ten or eleven. Work slowed to a crawl and as the night wore on, I found myself thinking I heard voices or that there were people in the apartment with me, or I would just waken hunched over my drawing board with a tiny, intricate scribble in place of what I had, moments before and unconsciously, believed to be a finished drawing of a fish.