This morning, it’s raining. One of those gentle, all-day rains that streak down windows by mid-morning, obscuring the view in and out, and send people scurrying for raincoats and umbrellas and the indoors. Days people love to hate.
But I love these days. They are my favorite for writing. I mean, what else are you going to do — weed the garden? Not likely. Stare aimlessly out at the doings in the street, the hustle and bustle, or the quiet of the sparrows and squirrels? Uh, no. Nothing’s there, not for long, at any rate. Other than the ceaseless parade of raindrops. So, I can settle in at a favored place, open the laptop…and write.
Best of all is a day like this in a coffee shop, ensconced in a window-front seat where I can watch the streaks glide down the glass and imagine myself in any time, any place, and mentally plug in to that “writing unconscious,” and channel echoes of Hemingway in Paris, J.K. Rowling in London, or any other writer who has ever written in a cafe. The companionable solitude in the best coffee shops is priceless, and on a rainy day like this, the value to me is trebled.
I can’t wait until I can start writing. What’s your favorite kind of day to write?