What Writers Do When It Rains

Pull on your writing galoshes and bring on the rain: We're fighting gloom and difficulty, and we're leaning into everything cozy this month at lucyflint.com.

I can't believe that tomorrow is already April. I mean . . . APRIL. The weather lately can't figure out if it wants to be cold and snowy, or--like today--warm and birdsongy and fresh.

And as it makes up its mind, I'm guessing we'll have a lot of rain. (Because you knew I was about to say April showers, didn't you?)

What do you do with the rain, lionheart?

My roommates in college deeply despised the rain. Any gray day was hailed with a groan and snarls.

... I was the weirdo who lit up at the sound of rain on the roof. I'd drag out an afghan or two, light candles, and snug into the sofa with a book. 

I usually feel rain like a relief. A let-up from the expectations of sunshine. Sunny days feel so demanding. Take advantage of me! Be productive! No excuses!

But rain--rain is a much-needed break. Like letting your face relax after grinning for too many photos.

Okay, okay. I'm not a total duck. I've resented the rain too. Usually when my jeans are soaked to the knee, my feet no longer reporting any sensation, and my nose dripping.

When I have to be out in it all day, when I can't seem to warm up, or when I already felt depressed thank-you-very-much... Those days, I don't welcome thick clouds and rain spatter and puddles. 

This month on the blog, we're going to be talking about what we do in the face of rain. Metaphorical rain, if you'll go there with me. Rain as a way to retreat.

Either retreating to seek refreshment--permission to have a different kind of day. Or, retreating from an assault, from thunderstorms and hail, from cold feet and worms writhing on the sidewalk.

How do we handle the changes in routine, the slumpy days, the gloomy moods? How do we handle storms that threaten our writing life--like, dare I say it, writer's block?

Retreats. Retreating in the face of rain. That's what we're talking about this April.

Oh, and if that somehow seems un-lionhearted, let me just say: It's not a lack of bravery, this pulling in. Sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is decide to rest. To make the time and space to take care of yourself.

And then other times, yup, we pull on our writing galoshes and go out into the storm, and face it. And maybe even write some stuff down.

So, here we come, April. We'll figure out exactly what to do with you.

Bring on the rain.