Winter is the most creative season. Really. Summer is too hot. Spring is too giddy. And autumn is, well, too autumnal.
But the minute the clocks change, I start thinking. Not that I don’t think at any other time. I just don’t think as constructively or as clearly as I do when it’s cold outside.
Writing goes well with grey skies, freezing rain and fog. There’s time to order your thoughts, to sit down at your desk or the kitchen table and turn on your computer; to try harder and fail better as Samuel Beckett once said.
Writing doesn’t go well with summer. All that sun on the head fries your ideas before they’ve had time to filter down to your fingertips and onto the page. And spring is too full of life to want to stay inside for too long.
So winter it is. And when things don’t work, which is more often than not, I can walk about and stamp my feet then head back to my desk with renewed energy.