Closing Time, Opening Pages: Why Writing Keeps Us Awake

There’s a line in Semisonic’s “Closing Time” that always feels less about bars and more about thought. It reminds me of those nights when I decide to shut down, close the shop of thinking, stop giving words shape, and step away from the page. Writing feels useless then, like a store no one visits. But just like the song suggests, “every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end,” soon enough, the doors creak open again. The writing shop resumes its business, even if no customers come.

Writing as a Pulse, Not a Product

When you write, the act itself is the proof of life. Words tumble out, half-formed, sometimes shapeless, often unpolished. They don’t need an audience to matter. Like breathing, writing sustains you, even if nobody hears it. The unseen drafts, the discarded notes, the private journals ,these are not failures of communication. They are the heart beating in the silence.

Why Writing Keeps You Awake

Writing keeps you awake because it demands presence. It asks you to notice details you might otherwise sleepwalk through. A line of thought sparks a sentence, and suddenly you’re alert, wide-eyed, leaning forward in your own mind. Unlike many tasks that dull or drain, writing is generative. It stirs new questions, opens hidden doors, and reminds you that you’re still alive enough to wonder.

Even when the impact is invisible, no likes, no applause, no response, the act itself leaves you charged. Writing doesn’t always change the world. Sometimes it just changes the writer. And that is enough to keep the light on.

The Invisible Audience

There’s a paradox here. Even if no one reads, writing still feels like a conversation. You imagine an audience, maybe a single listener who will never arrive. But the imagined dialogue keeps you sharp. It’s not about sales in the shop; it’s about keeping the shelves stocked, the door unlocked, the bell above it ready to ring.

Closing Time, Opening Again

Like the song says, every ending is also a beginning. Closing the notebook today makes room for opening it tomorrow. Writing is less about permanence and more about rhythm, the rhythm of stopping and starting, of exhaustion and renewal.

So even when no one buys from the shop, you keep opening it. Because the real customer is you, and the writing keeps you awake.