There Are No Snow Days in Writing

I was nestled under the covers with the cats, sleeping peacefully, and then the phone rang at dark-thirty this morning. The Texas weather gods had smiled on my husband. He got a snow day. I found myself thinking two things:

1) When you're a writer there are no snow days. You can write from anywhere.

2) It's a horrible thing to be awake, cold, and still tired, and unable to sleep at dark-thirty in the morning.

It seemed the gods of sleep had eluded both me and my husband, so we trudged out of bed and downstairs while the sun was creeping over the apartment roofs. I am writing this blog entry with my Kensington Flylight 2.0 while my husband catnaps on the couch next to me. It's a pretty nifty holiday gift from a friend; the light plugs into a USB port on your computer and you can sit in the dark with your keyboard illuminated. Perfect for mornings when you are awake at dark-thirty, tired, and blogging.

I ventured outside to document the snow day. Brace yourself. It's not very dramatic for some, but you have to keep in mind that we're in Dallas, Texas and there is a lot of ice coming our way with a light snow mix. This is the wily culprit that caused the snow day:

It may not seem like a formidable storm, but if you were born and raised in the Midwest like me and knew how Texans drove in any form of frozen precipitation, you would be scared too. (For any Texans reading this, I love how welcome you have made me feel in your state, but you need to learn to drive in snow).

Might I add, having been spoiled by the balmy weather gods with 75 degrees just two days ago, this is a cruel punishment and I want to know what we mortals did to incur your wrath! Perhaps, it was my lovely neighbors' fault who keep littering in the parking lot that pushed you over the brink. I know I'm teetering on that brink myself, if one more person doesn't pick up after their dog.

Appropriately this morning, I am working on a new piece, Snow Faery. I am unsure whether this will be a shorty story or something longer; storytelling is a wild animal and you just have to grab it by the mane and go! I don't create plot outlines before I sit down at my computer; I just have a vague idea like: Hey, let's write a story about a snow faery held hostage by a mean child. What would happen in that situation? And then I go find out...

Here is a small excerpt of the work in progress:

Nell stood, staring in horror at the tiny body of the man curled up next to their igloo. He clutched a small bowler hat in his right hand to his chest. If he had been standing upright in her palm, he would have been only a few inches tall.  His face was translucent blue.  She could see the tiny threads of veins running across the hard angles of his face. His jaw was pointy like an icicle.  His hair was the color of fresh snow in moonlight.

And that's about all I will share with you. I don't like sharing works in progress much outside my close circle of friends, but the snow day was a serendipitous moment I could not pass up.

As always, happy writing and happy reading to all!

And today, happy snow day to all!