Dear Reader: Thoughts on a writer’s winter

IMG_7413The thermometer on my car read two degrees as I drove to work this morning. Even my dogs resist going outside in this weather.

But I happen to love January.

I love the quiet.

I love the peace and stillness after all the commotion of the holidays which tend to drain me.

This year, January is also a sort of hiatus from the busy-ness (and business) of releasing novels. My third one doesn’t release until May 1, and so I have a few weeks “off,” so-to-speak. The down time feels like a warm blanket against what can–for an introvert–feel like an overexposed heart.

Don’t get me wrong–I’m often on my knees with gratefulness about the opportunities and processes of previous and upcoming novel releases. But there really is a time and a season (no pun intended) for everything. I also love being able to hunker down and take my time “filling my tank” with pleasure reading instead of hurrying and having to skim. I love being able to take my time and to be more focused on writing and research and rearranging the plots and sentences more like a sculptor than an assembly line worker.

Words don’t always come easy for me.

Writing is hard work.

Life is hard work.

That’s why I love both the real and proverbial writing winter, when I can nestle myself in to a cozy corner of my home, with one or all three dogs at my feet (or in my lap), and take time to dream and let the words come, rather than feeling like I’m having to chase them down.

What about you?

Do you like winter?

Why or why not?

mourning dove. a poem for the martyrs.

your cry cut through the empty
black morning, shuffling on
into another long day of wondering where
in the world is the hope?
surely even you had pounded your weary
wings against the hard cold, fleeing
from winter. but just when I wasn’t listening
i heard your lonely keen
a refrain I hardly realized I’d yearned for
until i heard you singing
again

*****

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“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers,nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Romans 8:38-39 ESV

*****
*dedicated to the Coptic Christians and martyrs everywhere, and that each of us would be so brave when our time to stand for The Cross Draws nigh*

winter poem.

i
don’t mind
the cold days when winter covers
the heat smothering the
blinding sun with a mist-knit sweater
holding in hope and when at last
it lifts, the outline of
life sharpens
clear

*****
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