Festival season is over, and winter is upon us here in the northern hemisphere. To me, this often means a definite downturn of my general mood, a decrease in productivity. My muse goes into hibernation, leaving me shivering in the cold, staring into the dark clouds and feeling like they must persist forever. I survive by virtue of psychiatric chemistry and the daily mantra that spring will eventually come.
I posted the first chapter of Gypsy Fiddle on the Online Writing Workshop back in November, and I’ve received a lot of useful feedback, but I’ve only been able to use about half of it. As the snow threatens to drag me down into depression, I almost dread reading the reviews, even though I know they can’t be that bad, because I become that much more sensitive. So, I shall wait until the spring, and in the meantime, rest my mind and catch up on my reading.