Then there's the weather. After a pitiful summer with not much heat in it, we've had a bit of a respite lately, with a couple weeks of lovely Indian Summer. With temperatures in the high sixties and seventies, yesterday I sat on the front porch rolling up my pant legs to gather the last bit of warm sun on my legs, watching our new kitten gambol in the grass, catching grasshoppers.
This morning, great grey clouds gathered in the north, and as the air grew brisk with impending rain, autumn leaves began to scuttle and scatter. Okay, enough with the poetic images. Winter is coming, darn it. And if you believe the forecasters, who predict something called La Nina for us this year (the opposite of El Nino) we are in for a long, wild winter.
Still, it's this kind of weather that makes me retreat to my keyboard and bang out words. This morning, as if my brain could feel the change in the seasons, I opened up Word and completed a first chapter on a new novel. Winter is the time when I write.
Now, if I can just get this kitten off my lap.
When is your best time to write? Do the seasons affect your creativity? Do you ever feel a novel coming on?