So I’ve had a bit of a lull recently. Not the first time and certainly not the last, just like any writer experiences from time to time. I’ve managed a little writing here, a little writing there…nothing to be excited over and nothing completed in a quite a while. Last week was different. Last week I wrote my little ass off. I made quite a bit of progress on my current WIP, drafted two new shorts, edited and submitted a few others, and just all-around felt good about writing.
I’m certain some of it had to do with the event I attended with the New England Horror Writers, as I came home from that feeling great about meeting people, talking about writing, selling books…all the good stuff. Now that I’ve been staring at the same paragraph off and on all day, I’m thinking there was something else.
Today was 90 degrees. It was hot and I felt disgusting even sitting in front of an air conditioner. Last week was in the 70’s for much of the week, dropping down into the 50’s at night. That kind of weather I can deal with. This heat crap? Forget about it. I think I just suck in the summer because I’m miserable. I’ve never been a fan of the sun and would easily prefer any other season.
I thought back to my various stories, both short and long, complete and in various stages of editing, and I realized that many of them have a strong weather element.
However, I only found two examples of stories that are clearly set in summer: one was written with the season as the specific theme (it totally HAD to be there), and the other takes place almost completely under the water. Other stories are full of rain, wind, or snow, and at least a couple involve full blown storms.
In conclusion…Wind and rain? I’ll take it. Piles of snow? Gimmie some. Blistering sun? Wrap me in a burlap sack and tuck me away until autumn, because I’m going to be useless until then.
Let’s hope Labor Day brings an end to the oppressive ball of fire in the sky, because I’d like to get back to work.