I had company at my house a few weeks ago. My brother came in from sunny California and my sister from Oregon. It was typical Ohio weather for late May/early June--blustery, cold, rainy, nasty. I was busy the first night of their arrival tracking down enough blankets for their thin-skinned bodies. The west coast sure can spoil a person. I even had to turn the heat back on one night, since they were both freezing.
And now, three weeks later? I have had the A/C on full blast for two days now. I tried to tough it out, with just fans blowing the hot air around, but my dog looked like she was about to melt, so I relented.
Which brings me to the point of this discussion. Just like the Ohio weather, a writer can run hot and cold with ideas, words, witty repartee. Sometimes, my fingers fly across the keyboard, and I can't keep up with the ideas that are coming at me from every angle. And at times, I sit there, running my hands over the keys, feeling the little bumps on the F and J keys and wonder where in the name of God my story is headed and how it ever went down that track in the first place. When that happens, I turn off the A/C, sit within range of the hot air mover, and wait. And wait. Sooner or later, I remember the sage advice of Nora Roberts--I can fix a typed page, but I can't do anything with a blank one. (or words to that effect). So I start typing. Slowly, a word at a time. I check my word count frequently in the beginning, since the first 500 words of the day are absolute torture for me. Then, I settle in and soon my fingers can't keep up with my ideas. At moments like these, I feel like sipping a pina colada, running along the beach, grabbing my surfboard and worshiping the sun gods. Suddenly, what was cold became hot.
Just like Ohio in June.