Being a writer is very easy, really, in the winter. We're more or less house-bound in this neck of the woods (Ontario) for many months, creeping out only for groceries, and, with daylight so short, tend to spend time comfortably cosy in front of the computer. (In the olden days, it would have been the fireplace.) I know - I know - I should learn to ski, to toboggan, whatever. Not me. I think winter is beautiful - but from the inside, looking out. But I did say "easy" for the winter writer, and, of course, it never is, but we manage to immerse ourselves in it, and at times it flows comfortably, and we are away in our own imaginary - and probably warmer - worlds.
However, at this time of the year, with bright sunshine outside, and folks strolling by (who are they all?), it's very difficult to spend time at my NEW laptop. (I so love my new laptop.) I know I can take it anywhere, but I won't. What kind of Northerner would I be if I sat in a park somewhere writing on such a beautiful day? So I guess Strachan's Attic will become a night time pursuit now, but you must remember that night time is now much shorter. Hmm, I'll certainly try hard to be good. It's really only the first weeks of Glorious Spring that I feel drawn to be outside, if I recall. Later, when we've all come to take it for granted, I'll be back inside some of the time.
Meanwhile, there will be Spring Fairs, Yard Sales, our Farmers' Market, plunges in my friend's hot tub (which I don't appreciate in the middle of the winter, although she does...), lunches on a dock somewhere, and all those other wonderful things to lure a writer away from the work.
I promise I will do my best. That's all any of us can do, after all.
Take care, and have a warm, warm weekend. Leave the laptop at home.
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