The Mother Of All Snor’easters

English: View north along Little Snoring Road ...

English: View north along Little Snoring Road Towards Great Snoring. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

One’s own snoring, if it wakes you more than once, should not necessarily prompt you to have yourself checked for sleep apnea so much as it should be taken as a source of inspiration.

That’s right. Snoring when done constructively to the point where the volume is loud enough to stir you from an uneven slumber, should be a sign to a writer that if you can’t turn on your side and fall back asleep, you should get your butt in the chair, fingers on the keyboard and eyes in front of the word processor screen, pounding out quality prose.

It was particularly interesting this morning that instead of being able to enjoy sleeping in, I found myself unable to do so. Snoring likes to get things started.

Sometimes writers will hear the sounds of someone else’s snoring and be inspired to write. If that were the case for me, when I was in boot camp I would have done some prolific writing as I was subjected to the sounds of the ugly, disjointed, unharmonious cacophony of 85 recruits exhaling in crackling, tobacco-laced unison in what can only be described as the mother of all snor’easters—on a nightly basis.

But if I would have had a typewriter (it was hard even then for me to handwrite anything) available, I could have dropped five hundred words, not broken a sweat and not have woken a single, snoring recruit.

I’ve read accounts of women saying their husband’s snoring was a comforting sound—like mashed potatoes sliding down one’s gullet? But, I think I know what they were speaking of: comforting from the standpoint of knowing their life partner was in the room–sleeping, living, breathing and yes, snoring. So, snoring was associated with life, comfort and the fact they were not alone; I get that.

Then there are other instances where women have partners who are such loud snorers they are prompted to send their men to ear, nose and throat specialists to see if something can be done to correct the situation.

“I could cut out his uvula, Mrs. Jones. This is done quite often in cases like this. Sometimes it actually remedies the situation, many times it does not. But one thing to consider is this procedure has a very, very painful recuperative period that can go on for weeks. And there are no guarantees snoring will cease,” says Mrs. Jones’ husband’s otolaryngologist.

Snoring is not a medical problem, snoring is a social issue,” concludes the good doctor.

I could see where if we were to combine chronic snoring with say, narcolepsy, we’d be in for some serious social issues for sure.

But of all the things that non sleep apnea-induced snoring is, those on its receiving end may choose to see it as less the inspiring writer’s tool and more the opportunity to become increasingly sleep deprived.

Yes, we do need good sleep and rest. I was interested to learn in my psychology class that the move to tablets as our primary reading forms (instead of newspapers, magazines and books) can contribute to inability to rest as well as insomnia. The main issue with iPads as reading devices for example, is the light generated from them as we read. The light (like sunshine or the sun rising) can fool our bodies into thinking they need to wake or be active, instead of falling asleep.

I haven’t had a chance to test any of this out, as I haven’t tried reading from a tablet before falling asleep. The other thing with snorers is some of them can snore through anything. Some are light snorers. Sometimes instead of writing or reading, the person who wakes him or herself up with their snoring, switches on the TV in their bedroom. This is bad feng shui having a TV in the bedroom, not to mention you risk your brain processing what is on the TV when you fall back asleep—Girls. Gone. Wild. OK, maybe now you’ll want to test this out with your favorite infomercial.

English: No Easy Listening Music

English: No Easy Listening Music (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Speaking of bad things your brain processes, sometimes we put on our headphones or put in our ear buds and try easy listening music in an attempt to drift back asleep—Snora Jones anyone?

But I see the sun coming up and the coffee machine has auto clicked on. Mmmm coffee. I’ll take a little snooze later.


3 replies »

  1. Unfortunately, and oddly, in my marriage I’m the horrendous snorer. My husband snores. My nocturnal utterances apparently put his Stihl Farm-Boss chainsaw to shame. (That’s a direct quote.) Thanks to your post, I now feel much better about this state of affairs and feel optimistic of new levels of creativity and productivity . . . if only I could wake myself up . . .


    • That is exactly what you should cull from this post, Jenn–how your snorability factor presents opportunities for you to expand your creative writing skills. I thank you so much for your candid, funny comments and for sharing that the irritation and joy that is snoring crosses both genders–not discriminating one bit in who is producing the rather large levels of decibels their partners endure. I’ll leave you with one tidbit of advice: if you lie flat on your back, you might just be more prone to waking yourself up. 🙂


  2. You would think that, wouldn’t you? But not only am I the louder snorer, I am also the lighter sleeper. I sleep with earplugs which, evidently help me sleep through my own racket as well as my husband’s . . .


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