One day I was writing with the windows open, the last of summer still doing its thing. Then, overnight, snow appeared on the mountains and the temperature decided autumn was just a suggestion
My work in progress didn’t stand a chance, nor did my body.
The gym session I rely on to untangle plot problems? Gone. Not because of the cold outside, but because of the head cold that arrived right alongside the snow, like they'd coordinated.
I sat at my desk feeling foggy, stuffy, my sinuses more productive than my muse.
I’m not a morning walk person. I’m a lift-heavy-things and try not to grunt person. The gym is where I work out the knots in my shoulders and in my story. Take that away and I’m just a writer wrapped in a blanket, staring at a mountain range covered in snow it has absolutely no business wearing at this time of year.
So I’m adapting. Slower sessions. More tea. Lower expectations, at least for this week.
It turns out seasons don’t wait for you to be ready. Neither does the work, with me now wishing I could slip through to a parallel universe like the one in the romantasy series I’m currently working on.
PS: Meet the Hadley brothers who feature in the manuscript I’m fighting the cold over. Spirit + Flesh—book one of the Nyphrazi Bridge of Realms series—is due out in the next month, with the other five to follow.
