It is HOT in here. Muggy hot. Stuffy hot from drawn shades and closed windows. Outside, it’s my-steering-wheel-is-going-to-burn-my-hands and the-pavement’s-going-to-melt and the-metal-is-going-to-take-off-my-skin HOT.
Yes, folks, we’re having a heat wave of temps in the mid-90s up here in Vermont.
I’ll wait while all you Florida and Arizona and other southern state people stop laughing.
Remember, we have no central air conditioning (thank God I insisted we install ceiling fans in every bedroom!). Our house is designed to trap heat (we can thank our Vermont winters for that). Our kids have been going about with flushed cheeks and heat-induced hair-trigger sensitivity. The Baron’s curls have been plastered to his head with sweat all day. I’m seriously considering cutting them off, poor child!
And still I revised. Got a whole new scene written, despite my laptop overheating and dying right in the middle. I feel victorious, the writer who triumphed over the weather, who did her writerly thing under less than optimum conditions, instead of filling up the bathtub with ice cubes and lying in it and insisting that no human body come within ten feet of her.
My friend Jo also got creative over the last day or two so she, too, could write.
Have you ever had to take drastic measures in order to write? Written a novel in 30-minute increments on a library computer? Scribbled flash fiction on a burp cloth while nursing twins? Let us know. 🙂