Another grey day. Rain, rain and more rain. I shouldn't complain about it because our part of the country really needs it. But after weeks and weeks of rain every few days, it becomes boring and predictable.
At first, I welcomed it because it was easy to sit and write. I like listening to the sound of rain on the roof and even against the windows. It was almost like the rain was providing a symphony for me to write against. A good feeling.
Now, I'm finding it not so harmonious ! I don't think I have that 'seasonal affective disorder' that some people have during this time of the year. I really do like the wintery weather, and wearing sweaters and sweat shirts. Still, it would be nice to have a cold day with the sun shining.
What is your favorite time of the year? Does it affect your writing, in that you writer better during some seasons than others? I've never really thought about it until today, when 'rain on the roof' awakened me once again.
Maybe it's because I'm writing about a funeral scene. Although...wouldn't a cold, rainy day be a better setting for funerals, with their grieving mourners, than a bright, sunny day that sparks energy and a desire to be somewhere else, anywhere else, than in a cemetary?
I'm wondering if there really is any kind of symbiotic relationship between the weather and what we write, how we write, and when we write.
Think about it. Let me know.