January is an uber-productive time for me. Something about the calendar turning over to a new year always gives me a swift kick in the butt and gets me out of those holiday hangover blahs. This changing of the year was particularly so. I left 2015 fifty pounds lighter than I entered the year and have been totally invigorated by the change.
But for some inexplicable reason, writing hasn’t followed the same pattern. Maybe because I’m at the very end of a novel (2 chapters to go!) when the seasonal version of my Circadian rhythms want to be starting something new. Or perhaps it’s the distractions of all the other new directions. We’re not naturally creatures of change, and although a little is welcome, too much is-well, it’s too much.
Whatever the case, January has been a writing slog.
OK, but guess what? Come Monday morning, it won’t be January any more. And when February hits, when much of the rest of the Northern hemisphere is snowed in or rendered lethargic by the winter chill, here in Houston it’s already shirt sleeve weather.
So unless on Tuesday Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow and ushers in 6 more weeks of January blahs, I expect a dramatic turnabout.
Bring it on, February! Let’s finish this draft and start something new!