Late Nights & Writing - What do they have in common?

I often find myself up late in the evening when I'm focused on anything creative, whether I'm writing a new story, or simply trying to scribble down some notes on an idea I had for a board game, or trying to sketch out a rough idea for a world map. I will find myself restlessly tossing and turning when I know I should be sleeping, as I have to be up at a decent hour for some reason or another, but will be unable to get a proper sleep until I get up and hammer out whatever idea is bouncing around in my brain.

This brought me to the conclusion that a restless mind for me is often the result of a creatively anxious mind. It's like dry tinder to an open flame. Once it starts burning, it must be wholly consumed before the flame is satisfied and can then flicker out and rest.

For those that would ask:

"What would you recommend trying?" 

I would answer with this:

I keep a variety of writing/doodling supplies close at hand for when I wake up in the middle of the night and feel the need to get something down on paper, or simply can't get to sleep until I get it out of my head.

With that said, it's now time for another story snippet.

   She burst from the trees onto the rutted road, paused to gain her bearings, then headed south at a full run. Wildlife scurried in and out of the trees all along the road as she ran, as if running from a forest fire. Another thunderous boom sounded up through the valley, and another flash of light lit the sky above Barroville. It was not long before dawn now, and the trees on either side of the road gave way to farmland as she rounded a bend in the road, the town walls now in sight. There were people everywhere on the road here, running from the gates. Men, women and children, farmers with their livestock, merchants and their carts, all trying to get away from the town as fast as they could. A sea of torches and lanterns flooded out from the village. Shouts and screams echoed over the walls regularly now that she was in earshot, and she noticed that most of the people fleeing had not even paused to change from their night garments. She shouldered her way through the throngs of people as quickly as she could without pushing them out of the way, working against the flow towards the gates.