37F according to the outside thermometer this morning. Which doesn’t sound very cold to those in some other parts of the country, I’m sure. But now that I’m living in a house with real actual central heating, I sort of feel a little thrill at looking at that temperature drop and knowing that we won’t be cold.
Sometimes it’s the little things.
I feel like I’ve just awakened from a sort of shuddering dream. Summer was…well, mostly unpleasant. The nightmare of buying Chez Saintcrow (now that it’s over, I’m glad, and though I love this house I’m not sure I would ever do THAT again) shading into a autumn of settling in, finishing the Cinderella book (again, shhh, can’t say much about that) and a breakup, well, stress has pretty much been my middle name and the writing has suffered. Scraping together enough emotional energy to come back to the work day after day has been a deadly struggle, and even years of discipline haven’t helped as much as I could wish.
But the ice seems to have finally broken. I’m working on the third Bannon & Clare, and moonlighting with a story about trailer-park fae. No lie–the hero lives in a trailer park, and his world is weird, dangerous, and wonderful. It’s my reward for getting through each day’s work–more work! And I’m happy to have it so.
Spring/summer’s generally seen as the bright half of the year, full of renewal and growth; autumn and winter as the dark half, restful and consolidating. I’m thinking instead that this will be the winter of my renewal–made glorious by a son of spork, or something.
It’s good to be back. Now I have to write an invalid’s temper tantrum and a girl fencing with the Queen of Faerie. This is going to be fun…