Because it might actually be coming. Not a moment too soon because we have been thoroughly blanketed in snow and enough is enough. Done with sweaters. Done with gloves. Done with dry hands and snow days and the rabbits chowing the remains of my garden and leaving little rabbit-sized snowprints all over the yard. Done done done.
It’s supposed to get up to 50 degrees tomorrow and I’m tempted to haul out the sandals.
It’s better to write in nice weather. I don’t know why that would be, unless I’m taking the laptop outside, which I’ve been known to do. But even when I hide inside, I prefer the sun coming through the windows. Dark and dreary days aren’t excellent writing days, at least not for me.
Maybe it depends on what you’re writing. My novel is snarky-funny. My children’s books are gentle-funny. I’d rather go for the laugh than the jugular. In which case, maybe a sunny setting is more appropriate. If I were writing something Gothic, maybe I’d want a thunderstorm around, or a thick fog, or some really violent hail.
Okay, not the hail. Property damage.
At any rate, hoping the weather is inspirational enough to help me accomplish a few things, and that enough snow melts so I can see my garden gnome again. He’s out there somewhere.