It’s late September and finally starting to cool off here in southern Louisiana. By cool off, I mean it’s dropping into the high 60s / low 70s at night and not climbing much above the mid 80s during the day. But even in this faux fall I’m finding my energy levels for writing starting to surge. It has always been this way for me. I write better when it’s cool, and better yet in the dead of winter when the world is quiet and lies waiting for spring.
Something in winter has always inspired me, and I believe it has to do with the edge of melancholy emotions that is wetted in me by the first seasonal chill. I’m not sad, not depressed. I’m merely a little more open to the darker emotions and darker thoughts that come creeping in with the cold northern winds.
Such observations of own productivity have led me to wonder if other writers have similar, or different, experiences. Anyone care to weigh in?