Without change, something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens

– Frank Herbert

My office is icy cold, littered with endless cups of tea – some finished, many forgotten.  There is also a part of me that senses I am never truly alone when locked away in here. My creating space has been neglected for most of the year, gradually accumulating unpacked boxes and forgotten memories. I peak in and my eyes zero straight to my desk and I feel the first tingle of anticipation and excitement.  A weight lifts off my shoulder and for the first time in a long time I feel like I can breathe.  I feel the magic that lures me to this cave year after year ever since I was sixteen. Although the cave has changed throughout the years, my instinct to return is in my blood. The compulsion to write never leaves me for long and for that I am very grateful.

Winter is all about pretty and not-so-pretty creatures fighting to break out of my mind and onto the page. The morning frost, fog and endless rain stir something within me. My muse finally emerges from the shadows and leans against a wall with an eyebrow raised.

He always stands in the empty space to my left – the place I sense unseen eyes constantly watching me. The creative part of myself – my muse – terrifies me.


This year has been an unpredictable journey and I admit I have been a little shy and hesitant to step into my world. I have ventured forth on many occasions and hastily retreated. The jarring sensation when entering an abandoned world is what I imagine falling into a frozen lake would feel like. My brain hurt. I couldn’t breathe. I was convinced I was going to drown.

A big part of me worried I left my revision dormant for too long and that I could never undo the damage. But looking at my desk from the safety of my doorway, everything is beginning to feel familiar once again.

The feel of the air, the icy room of neglect and lack of warmth feels inviting.

I thrive here.

I am scared here.

My element has arrived.

Love and light,



9 thoughts on “Winter

  1. So lovely. So familiar. I have learned that revisions always wait for me. They’re like those African lungfish that can survive, burrowed into mud, for up to two years during draught. (Usually, they thrive without me better than I do without them.)

    • Thanks for stopping by, loving your blog! I would like to think our revision thrives without us because we have these cool supernatural powers that still link them to us…makes us feel more wanted that way! haha

  2. 🙂 Very cool.
    The writing cave sounds quite cozy, although it is hard for me to picture winter right now. We are having a gorgeous summer day!
    Even the loneliest of places perks right up once you start filling it with stories. Happy revising!

    • Thanks! I really love revising in the cold, maybe I’m just inspired by bleak things and get too distracted by summer time! I know what you mean about finding it hard to picture winter. Last summer during the heat waves I couldn’t believe there were writers out there drinking hot coffee and revising to their hearts content.

  3. This is so inspiring! Thank you, lady! 🙂

    I know how you feel with the revision… but I want to encourage you! You can do it and you will be able to finish it. 🙂 Keep up the great work!!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s