The email pinged past midnight as the kettle hissed in the kitchen. Steam curled against the window, and the street outside looked like a stage after the show—dark, quiet, chairs stacked in shadow. I opened my laptop with tea still too hot to drink, thinking it would be a little glow before sleep. Instead, I found the review.
At midnight, the house finally goes quiet. Your desk lamp throws a warm circle over a stack of sticky notes, a half-cold mug, and the sentence you’ve been circling for days. There’s a whisper in the room—what happens next? Your story waits, heartbeat steady, asking you to answer.
I blocked off an afternoon with coffee and a timer. You can do the same. In four passes, I took dialogue that sounded like a robot reading a memo and turned it into people talking under pressure. You don’t need magic—just a few tight levers you can pull.