Lately, I’m obsessing on the weather. Winter has been unrelenting and the swings have been dramatic—rather like a well-plotted novel, but much less satisfying. Saturday night we ate out on our patio, enjoying a dead perfect evening—not too hot, not too cold, no bugs, bright sun—knowing full well such evenings are rare. It was 80 degrees. By the next morning, the temperature dropped 40 degrees and rain came. The rain has been unrelenting for twenty-four hours, and I can only be grateful it isn’t snow (my sympathies to Minneapolis and Green Bay).
What does this have to do with writing? For one thing, my mood plummetted with the temperature. All I wanted to do yesterday was snuggle up under an afghan and read, and so I did. No writing. No marketing. No laptop. How bad was it? I forgot to go to the library and now I have overdue items. Library fines! Oh, the shame of it. My professional pride is damaged.
It has one other impact on writing. My mood impacts the words on the page, but that isn’t all bad. This isn’t a day for happy endings, glorious love, or funny scenes. I need to write the gloomy bits. SIGH. It also occurs to me, that I ought to use weather more often to set emotion in a story. That’s something to ponder! I best get to it.
But first, coffee!