I don’t like to write during the Summer, or the Spring or when it’s hot out or when the Sun is shining through my window.
It’s not that I find the dark so inspiring, I just hate the distraction.
Long Sunny days are like white noise-but instead of that noise eating it’s way through my brain via my ears it eats it’s way to my brain via my eyes.
Yes, it feels as unpleasant as it sounds.
When I’m writing or reading I do put some music on, but most of the time after it stops I hardly ever notice. There’s structure to music and if I’m familiar with the piece it drops completely off of my radar. But all of that sunlight? It just screams sweet nothings at me and before you know it I’m playing Mahjong or Hangman and my brain has gone bye-bye.
During the First part of the year I really don’t start writing until the evening and then I have to pull the drapes and shut the curtains and then I can write- so I end up staying up to late and I’m beat in the mornings but I haven’t found my way around it. I remember thinking how great it would be to live in a place where it was dark and cold. On the other hand, I’m smart enough to know balance in important.
Even if that means I’m only sleeping five hours a night.
Everything we do comes with a price- and having to view the Spring and Summer as earworms is the price I pay for what makes ( or interferes with ) my ability to create.
( a failed poem, but I wrote it when the Sun was up ha, just kidding )
Sun Sun go away
I don’t want to play today
Sun Sun go away
you’re bad for my skin and you make
people smell bad and they all want to
sit next to me on the bus.
Writing Prompt 7: