Since the weather turned towards autumn and the nights creep over the land of daylight, I have more energy for writing.
In summer the garden’s siren call of silence lures me out, to sit with tea and watch the bees amongst the oregano flowers and purple chive blossoms, the sweetness of the sun’s warmth still captured in the stones beneath my feet.
But after the autumnal equinox the light fades early. The sun rises later than I do. My window looks out on glowing skies for a brief month until they, too, submit to darkness.
I’ve made good progress on this novel. Starting with a blank page again, I’m stitching together another tapestry of words, building another cathedral.
The work is stronger than when I originally drafted the story a year ago. Since then I’ve written and published SHADOWBOX, and the month-long series of posts on this blog to herald the novel’s arrival. I’ve learned about my own writing habits a little more – and learned not to ignore the patterns within those habits.
One of those patterns is the ebb and flow of energy I have for writing.
Another is the time I spend outdoors, another the demands of a Day Job, yet another the quality of sleep made simple by long hours of darkness*.
I’m learning to own my writing habits as much as my style and work with them, not fight ’em.
Winter’s coming. And the nights are painted bright with story.
*Not as long, nor as dark, as further north. But in December we only have 7 hours of daylight.