It’s cold here. As I type, it is 14 degrees below zero with a windchill of about 40 below. And it’s warmer than it was an hour ago. Frozen describes everything here – the roads, the cars – my brain. Seriously, I don’t function well when it’s this chilly.
To add to the cold, we have several feet of snow just standing everywhere. I haven’t taken down my outside Christmas ornaments yet, mostly because I can’t get to them. Somewhere under a couple feet of snow an inflatable polar bear is hibernating. I’ll find him in the spring. I have three-foot tall candy canes buried under there somewhere, too. That drift is a little higher, because that’s where we put the snow we shovel off the driveway. At this point, though, I don’t know where we’re going to put the next batch. The pile is getting to be over my head.
So as I drive the kids to school and I drive in to work, I look around and am amazed that life can go on in this. My reaction is to huddle under the blankets never to be seen nor heard from again. At least until we start to thaw. But go on we do. Something about sturdy Northern stock should come in here, I suppose, but I don’t feel so sturdy. I feel cold. And freaking tired of snow.
As I mentioned, my brain is frozen, too. Writing has been pretty much impossible lately. I just can’t get the words out. Heck, I can’t even manage to read through Courting Kismet without my mind drifting off to something else. Hope that’s not an indication of how bad the book is. Of course the idea is to read it so I can re-write it and make it better. Still, I have to be able to concentrate. Which ain’t easy.
So my brain is frozen, my creativity is frozen, and my progress is…frozen. Anybody have any good tricks to help me thaw?