There are definitely days where I find it easier to go into my office, close the door and write. I don’t feel as if I’m missing anything, well at least not much.
For me, the beautiful sunny days of the summer are the hardest to work on. I can take my laptop outside and work on the patio, but I can’t focus the same way as when I’m in my office.
Then of course there are the squirrels who come around and beg for seeds, and the birds that sing and land on our lawn to eat. Sometimes the rabbit comes out, and even the occasional skunk. I can hear the wind singing through the leaves on the trees, and I think of summer vacations up at the cottage where I could totally disconnect and be one with nature around me.
None of this is conducive to serious writing.
I wonder if I lived in a warm climate all the time, if I’d get used to the heat and sun and beauty and wildlife, and then be able to concentrate once again? Living here in Canada, where we have four distinct seasons, has caused me to always feel that summer is meant for vacation. Our summer is so short and so wonderful that it just seems like the time to play hooky, to walk aimlessly by a lake, to play in the sand, the listen to the birdsong and watch the sun go down in a comfortable chair on the deck. After all, that’s how I spent my summers as a child, so that routine got imprinted on my soul. And I like it.
Maybe one day when I’m a famous writer and I’m making scads of money selling my books, I’ll be able to take the summers off. What a fun idea that is. There I’ll add that to my wish list.
Hey, if you don’t dream then you never know!
From the series, Write On! by Jacqueline Snider, writer and editor