I have almost made peace with the fact that I just don’t seem to write in winter. We are nearing the end of a particularly tough winter now – well, tough for those of us who are used to long, sunny summers and very mild winters.
I have spent most of this winter sleeping, or just cuddling up in bed. Normally, when I am not writing, I spend a lot of time reading, but this winter even stole that from me – it was simply too cold.
This morning, I woke up to the sounds of rain, and knew that winter is at its end, and with it, my writing hiatus. I could feel the stories stirring deep inside, and the words bubbling under the surface – the writing will be back soon.
My mother has been tempting me recently. She is moving to the coast in just over a month’s time, and planted a seed – why don’t we move down too. Dreams of working in the morning and writing in the afternoon appeared. And I am not sure I can stop this seed from growing this time. And maybe it is time for a change.