I love to write at night. I swear I'm part wombat since I skulk around my house turning off extraneous lights as soon as the sun goes down. If I could write by candlelight and the computer, I'd be all over it -- at least until my optician brings down the axe on my eyesight with a new set of reading glasses. Not sexy.
Due to my schedule, however, most writing gets shoved into the early afternoon while the girls are in school and if I can convince the four-year-old to play with something other than sharp objects. I've read of parents that rise before the crack of dawn to crank out a few pages, if I did that they'd be filled with absurd vowel usage and likely more than one expletive if the coffee weren’t finished yet. I'm sure my beta readers appreciate the wait until the afternoon.
But in those quiet hours after I duct tape the children to their beds and the husband is wrapped up in another sudoku, I can get back to pirates and ghosts (or whatever the flavor of story is at the moment) with only the moon for company. And I am, at last, in the groove.