It’s no secret I write best when it’s rainy and thundery. I’ve mentioned that a time or two before. My muse tends to dry up in summer, only peeking her head out when I jab her from behind with my thumb drive. (That came out sounding much dirtier than I intended.)
And I think I finally figured out why I write so well when it’s dark and gloomy.
This weekend I took a trip here:
Beautiful, right? Quiet. Relaxing. Serene.
But that’s the problem. I’m not writing for beauty’s sake. I’m not writing something that’s gonna soothe the soul or quiet the mind. I’m writing something that’s dark and raw and gristly. I’m writing from somewhere angry, deep inside. Honestly, before I start writing, I sit at my desk and ball all my frustration and stress into my gut, then spew it out onto the keyboard. I almost have to make myself pissed off to write something good. What comes out is not daisies and butterflies, but torture and heartache, toil, toil, boil and bubble and all that voodoo jazz…but it works for paranormal writing. (At least I freaking hope so.)
So this weekend, as my mind cleared and powder from Bear Valley’s slopes lightened my spirit, I found it very hard to head back to the cabin for writing time. Because my spirit was so light, the writing was light. I needed a big storm. A storm that was black and ominous…so my writing could match.
I’m starting Book 3 this week…again. Come hell or high water, Chapter 1 will be written by the end of the weekend. It’s just too bad the weatherman’s calling for a warm front…
What about you? Do you write better in certain weather? In a certain spot or position in your house? Can you write both inside and outside? Or is your muse a fickle creature, like mine?