You need to follow a routine. That’s what they tell insomniacs. Get up at the same time every day. Oh, sure, set that alarm for 6 on the weekend. That will regulate your sleep patterns.
I used to be an insomniac. I seldom slept more than four hours a night. In a sitcom, everyone laughs when the “insomniac” is caught snoring, because it proves that he or she does sleep. But I used to stay up and read till 1 or 2, and then get up at 5:30 to get to work by 7:30.
Routines are good. It’s easier to make something a habit if you plan it in advance and do it daily; plus there’s the (controversial) phenomenon of “decision fatigue”, which implies that you should “routinise” as many choices as possible – such as when to get up and what to do first each day – to save energy for others. Some people are so disorganised that a strict routine is a lifesaver. But speaking as a recovering rigid-schedules addict, trust me: if you click excitedly on each new article promising the perfect morning routine, you’re almost certainly not one of those people. You’re one of the other kind – people who’d benefit from struggling less to control their day, responding a bit more intuitively to the needs of the moment. This is the self-help principle you might call the law of unwelcome advice: if you love the idea of implementing a new technique, it’s likely to be the opposite of what you need.
THREE MORE LITERARY LINKS.
And in an article in The New Republic, Jeff Heer calls Wolfe the Proust of science fiction. He writes,
Wolfe, a celebrated writer of science fiction and fantasy with a deeply Catholic imagination, died on Sunday at age 87. Wolfe was a writer who occupied a unique niche by fusing together three seemingly divergent strands: pulp fiction, literary modernism, and Catholic theology. His four-volume masterpiece The Book of the New Sun (of which The Shadow of the Torturer is the first tome) is an almost indescribable combination of speculative Christian eschatology with a Conan the Barbarian adventure story, written in a prose that can fairly be described as Proustian.