Well there it was summer is over, autumn is in full flow and winter is racing up behind. I wouldn’t mind, I love the four seasons although I do prefer a summer in between spring and autumn and this year we seem to have missed out on it. Well tell a lie, we had maybe a week of hot sun hidden between the rain and drizzle.
As a writer it’s a bit of a quandary, I love snuggling up under a blanket with a brew and my notebook drafting new ideas to write about. The grey sweat-pants, or tracksuit bottoms as we call them in the UK, going baggy at the knees following the constant curling in positions that will no doubt cause arthritic hips in years to come. The thick walking socks rolled down around my ankles, warm and so god damn attractive OK so maybe I lied again, substitute comfy for attractive and the description may be more accurate.
What’s the quandary? Whilst loving cold weather and being buttoned up against it, I blooming hate being cold but I crave the creative time given to me by dark nights and curtains closed to the world.
I enjoy sun worshipping, lying on grass feeling warm skin slightly pink, OK third lie as I usually go crimson fairly quickly. The ice cream van with musical call driving nearby is a joy but it does mean I don’t get my notebook out so often, I go out walking and socialising instead of writing.
I guess the main issue is having a job, not a writing job I mean a day job that involves sitting in an office on a pc, OK chair at a pc if you choose to be picky. It makes me rebel. In summer, refuse to be tied to a desk any longer than absolutely necessary and therefore I do the out and about thing. Cafe culture may be a solution but then I end up people watching so have reams of notes about interesting characters but they don’t form in to a concrete story board. In winter I want to be wrapped up in the fresh air to counteract the effects of horrendous air-con in the office and trekking across frozen moorlands renders the fingers so cold at the breaks I tend to hug a mug of hot and steaming brew instead of sharpening the old charcoal to scribe a la Dickens.
Basically I need to get a grip and write some definitive story boards around the meagre notes I have made. I have just seen that Edna O’Brien wrote her first novel in three weeks so there is hope for me yet!
Oh by the way, just off out to look at garden furniture so I can sit out and write no matter what the weather…can’t I?