Tied To The Writing
Time has gone by, the way it does, and soon, I won’t be able to open the windows, and let an early morning breeze refresh the house. As a writer, I like to have all these little nooks and crannies to work from, and in the warmer weather, I’m offered more space to spread out. There’s the main porch, where the morning’s are cool enough to sit, coffee cup steaming by my side, caffeine opening up my brain, the quietness while all the neighbors are at work. I can re-read what I wrote the day before, make some minor changes, and think about what comes next in the story. There’s the smaller side porch, just off the kitchen for the afternoon, when I do the “heavy lifting,” the laying down of new words. This little spot keeps the sun off of me until the battery gives out and I have to go in and recharge. The disruption at that point tends to make me realize I need a break, so me and the little guy might go for a walk.
As the weather grows cooler, I’ll still go outside up to a certain point. For me, mid fifties, I can still work. Below that, my fingers don’t want to move like they should and neither does my brain. I’m too busy thinking about how cold I am. (my Canadian friends if reading this, are laughing their rear ends off about now…since they wear shorts when it’s in the fifties) Hey, I’m from the south so I have perpetually thin blood, I guess, and it doesn’t take much for me to decide sitting by a fire is much nicer.
Either way, I’ve always loved the change of seasons. As I think about hunkering down in a warm, cozy spot as the weather gets colder, I also think ahead and imagine where I could be, say by Christmas time, with this latest work in progress. For me, every single thing is tied to the writing. The weather, the day to day chores, our vacations and upcoming social events, and the holidays, I see it all ahead, but it’s the writing that is always in the forefront. I chase it, track it down, wheedle a few more minutes with it, however I can. I can’t imagine it any other way.