This has been one strange winter. Every week since just after Christmas, the northeast has been getting one large snowstorm after another. Most of these have been nor'easter -- storms that draw energy from the ocean. Typically these storms deliver a foot or more of snow each time they go by.
So far we've have a total of 60 inches (5 feet) of snow and I'm out of room to put any more anywhere until some of this stuff melts. The problem is we've got six week of winter to go and no end to the storm pattern in sight.
After the last storm, I found I had no interest in writing. My whole focus was to clear away the snow to get living space back. It takes days for me to clean up after a snowstorm because there is so much work to do.
The driveway, the back deck (for the dogs), the front stairs and the path that leads down to the driveway. And each of these tasks takes a lot out of me, my shovel, and my ice chopper. This last time I found I had to take down several drifts as well. I'm still working on that last one.
Apparently I'm suffering from snow fatigue. I read about this in the newspaper. And I'm guessing that this feeling is adding to my stress and destroying my interest in writing. The good news is the effect is temporary. We had a storm on Wednesday and I was back writing and revising Friday night.
The bad news is that's two days I don't get back. I really don't want to give up any of my writing time not when it took years for me to get to the point I'm at now. On the other hand, I can only do what I can do. So it was probably just as well that I didn't write on those two days. I can't afford bad writing to creep into my novel, not when I'm preparing it for another submission.
But when I realized why I hadn't been writing, it seemed to me worth telling others about. So be on guard. Just one more hurtle to get passed.