When The Writing Was Great

Harry and I are at my favorite Italian restaurant in Yuppieville, and we're settled in at the bar. I got there early because I want some time to calm down and drink a glass of wine (which was not wise considering the medications I mixed with the booze).

We were talking about when we write, our creative schedules so to speak.

"You know when I wrote the most?" I say. "Early in the morning when I was manic. And I thought it was great stuff."

"It was great," Harry says. "I remember."