Monday, November 27, 2023

Weather or Not?


 By Thomas Kies

On Saturday I was the emcee at a Small Business Vendor Holiday event at our local community college where I also happen to teach Creative Writing.  There were 140 vendors that were in attendance, and I’d be introducing local dance and singing acts.  It was an all-day event and in return for my services, they kindly gave me a spot to put up a tent, set up a table, and sell and sign a few books.

I thought, what the heck?  This was a holiday event.  What makes a better gift under the tree than a mystery signed by the author?

Things never go as planned.

On Thanksgiving, just a few days prior to the event, the weather here on the coast of North Carolina was sunny and in the seventies. On Saturday, the temps had dropped to the high forties—low fifties and the winds had picked up to gusts of over twenty miles per hour. 

I started the morning by unloading the car and then attempting to put up the canopy.  In that wind, trying to do that alone, it became a hilarious wrestling match.  The struggle was not only to put it up, but to keep it from flying away and becoming a lethal missile.  

After a half-hour battle, I was sweating, breathless, and frustrated.  I looked around to see if I could find one of the other vendors to give me a hand.  They were all having the same problem.

Most had reached the logical conclusion which was not to put the canopy up at all. 

While overcast, it wasn’t supposed to rain so I put the tent back into the back of my car and parked it in the adjoining lot.  Then I set up the table and had a similar problem with the tablecloth.  It was like something out of a Buster Keaton movie.

I’d have one end of the tablecloth laid down when the other end would go flying around as if it was possessed by a demon.  Since my wares were books, they ended up being my weights. 

It was a smaller than expected crowd.  As I said, the weather was cold and very windy.  Many vendors gave up and went home early.  Cindy, my wife, joined me a little later in the morning and that helped rejuvenate my spirits. She gamely greeted shoppers as they drifted by and even managed to sell books when I was on stage introducing the next gaggle of kids choreographed to dance to Christmas Carols. 

When she started to shiver however, I asked her to go home.  I stuck it out the rest of the day and I did sell more books than I should have on that miserable afternoon.

Okay, so it wasn’t the most conducive day to sell books.  But it’s the kind of day I enjoy when I’m writing. Here it is, the day after and still cold, not as windy, but dark and it’s raining off and on.  For me, that’s perfect writing weather.  

If it’s sunny and warm, I feel like I should be outside doing something.  If it’s nasty out, I love being inside with a cup of hot coffee, listening to some soft music, and sitting in front of my laptop, knocking out another chapter or two.  

Our environment is an important part of our writing process.  Some of us can be more productive when we’re free of distractions while some other writers are happier in a bustling coffee shop.  Some of us love to listen to a little jazz while we create, and others need total silence.

When I teach my creative writing class, one of the subjects we discuss is finding a place that’s comfortable for you, a place where you can feel creative.  And to get into the rhythm of writing every single day.  

Where do you like to write and does the weather impact your writing? Do you enjoy music while you’re creating or do you need the quiet? 

www.thomaskiesauthor.com

2 comments:

Anna Chapman said...

Where: Dining table, far away from the siren call of my PC.
Music: No. Too distracting. Drowns out the words in my head.
Other people: No. They always want attention. Needy bunch, them.
Weapon of choice: Pen and paper, or my trusty AlphaSmart keyboard.


Jessi Waugh said...

I’m with you, Tom – if the weather is pretty, I’m compelled to be out in it. I can only successfully slack on nasty days. Today, I wrote on a boat, the best writing spot so far.