Recently I have been feeling as uninspired to write as ever. After calling some of my friends who are still studying at university, I gathered that it is a very common feeling right now. One of my friends is in the final year of her art degree, with an online degree show approaching – not the way she intended her art to be seen. She was clearly disappointed but said she was happy to still be creating work all the same.
One of my favourite things about this course is that it forces me to write. I have too easily before put my lack of writing down to various circumstances – but I can see now those were merely an assortment of lies. When I have a deadline or a creative writing workshop to write for it always gets done (perhaps slowly and awfully but completed all the same).
The other day I was sitting at my desk racking my brain for anything to put down on paper. I couldn’t help but get distracted by the snow outside my window. It kept stopping and starting but as soon as it started I immediately felt mesmerised by it.
It reminded me of something my sister said about winter: “I prefer cold weather. You can always add on a layer of clothing but you can’t take off your skin.” Then, just like that I felt as if I owed it to her and her wonderful humour to put that in a story. So I did.