Writing for me is like waiting for snow… wishing for snow, for those first fluffy white flakes of inspiration to fall. The air is chilled, you’re ready but as you gaze dreamily out of the window the skies are clear. No matter how much you will it to snow, you know it will only appear when you least expect it. Then, in the middle of the night it comes with a flurry thick and fast. Great heavy flakes hit you and delicate dancing wisps drift all around but you’ve no pen, no brush, no camera. You breathe in the scene willing all senses to capture the moment.
The next day the garden is transformed into a magical white wonderland, glistening and fresh in the morning sun. Then it’s a race to gather the snow before the crisp flakes melt and disappear into the chilly air. You carefully scoop the first handful and roll it gently, gathering more and more, it seems you’ll never get it together, but then it sticks. The ball grows and grows rolling off in directions all on its own, both helped and hindered by children. Then your snowman is born, a bit wonky with stray leaves and sticks clinging but it’s your snowman and it was created with love. Carefully picking out the leaves, you smooth the sides and the children add the finishing touches; a carrot nose and smiley mouth and black stones for eyes. Standing back you appraise your work – it’s done and ready to share.
Last night it snowed for real and my children couldn’t wait to run outside to feel the cold. Grabbing the first clothes out of the basket, they charged, eclectic bundles of excitement tumbling over the snowy lawn. As for me, I’m still waiting for my snow to fall.
Happy writing my author friends!
Original artwork by Christine Southworth @bearprintstudio