Winter Blues and the Creative Spirit

This winter really kicked my rear end. I don’t know if it was actually colder, longer, and snowier than usual or if it just felt that way, but either way, I felt drained. A kind of low-grade listlessness settled over me, the kind that makes it hard to muster enthusiasm for much of anything. My creativity? It all but hibernated.

I’ve always been a summer person. I thrive when the sun is shining, when I can get outside and move, when nature feels alive and bursting with possibility. There’s something about stepping into warm air that sparks energy in me, making ideas flow as easily as the breeze through the trees. But winter? Winter is different.

The days are short, the nights are long, and the cold seeps into everything. Even with the glow of holiday lights or the beauty of fresh snow, I find myself counting down to spring. I try to embrace the season—hot tea, cozy blankets, the occasional twinkling snowfall—but the truth is, I have to actively fight my way through these three months of darkness every single year.

Some winters, I get by with walks in the crisp air, bundled up beyond recognition. Other years, I lean on books, letting myself escape into stories while I wait for the world outside to thaw. Sometimes, I even trick myself into feeling inspired—lighting candles, playing music, seeking out small joys like the sound of a crackling fire or the way the cold makes my Papillon dog extra snuggly.

And then, there are winters like this one, where I just… exist. Where my creativity curls up somewhere deep inside me and refuses to come out until it senses the first signs of spring. And I have to remind myself: That’s okay too. Creativity isn’t a machine—it ebbs and flows like the seasons. Some years, winter is a time to dig deep and create. Other years, it’s a time to rest, to recharge, to allow myself to feel the slowness instead of fighting it.

But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.

So tell me—what do you do to get through the long, dark months? Do you embrace winter’s stillness, or do you fight against it? I’d love to hear your favorite ways to cope.

Comments

The Encyclopedia Was Our Google — And Dad Was Our Search Engine

You know you’re not a digital native when the word “research” makes you smell paper and hear the satisfying thud of a heavy book landing on a table. Welcome to my childhood, where curiosity was rewarded not with Wi-Fi, but with a stack of alphabetically-organized mystery bricks called encyclopedias . Let me take you back. The year? Somewhere in the analog era. The place? Our living room, where we had the entire Bertelsmann encyclopedia collection proudly displayed like it was the crown jewel of human knowledge. We didn’t just own knowledge—we subscribed to it. One glorious volume arrived each month, like an academic advent calendar for nerdy children. Volume “A” to “Z,” with deep sighs of longing in between. I swear, I still remember the day Volume “P” arrived. I rushed to the mailbox like I was expecting a letter from a secret admirer. Nope. Just got the lowdown on Photosynthesis and Peru. But did that stop me from doing a dramatic reading of it over dinner? No, it did not. M...

The Glamorous Life of a Writer (Or, Mostly Just Staring at a Screen)

There’s a persistent rumor floating around that writers live thrilling, adventure-filled lives. Perhaps it’s all the dramatic author portraits on book jackets—moody, windswept, staring off into the distance as if contemplating the fate of the world. Perhaps it’s the movies, where writers are always dashing off to Paris to write the next great novel in a charming café (suspiciously never interrupted by spotty Wi-Fi or overpriced croissants). I hate to break it to you, but real writing? Not quite so cinematic. In reality, my writing days mostly involve staring intensely at my screen, willing the words to appear through sheer force of will. Occasionally, I engage in deep philosophical debates with myself—such as whether my protagonist should turn left or right down a hallway (the fate of the fictional world depends on it). And let’s not forget the highly intellectual process of naming characters, which can take hours because somehow every single name I think of is either the name of ...

The Absolute Madness of Naming Characters

Let’s talk about one of the most ridiculous struggles of writing a book. No, I’m not talking about the part where you stare at the blinking cursor like it personally insulted your ancestors. I’m talking about naming characters. It should be easy, right? Just slap a name on them and move on? Oh, my sweet summer child. If only. See, naming a character is like naming your kid—except worse, because nobody is going to complain if your kid and their cousin both end up being named Liam. But if your main villain is named Liam and you accidentally give the quirky coffee shop owner in book three the same name? Cue the existential crisis. Let’s walk through the madness. The Overthinking Spiral of Doom You start writing, and there’s that moment: your brand-new character walks onto the page, full of potential. All they need is a name. A simple name. Something strong, something fitting, something— Oh no. Nothing sounds right. This one is too complicated. That one is too simple. ...

Thinkingdog Publishing

Search This Blog