It’s raining. It’s been raining for most of the summer. May was okay and there were some dry spells in July but mostly it’s been raining. I know this sounds like a whinge, a complaint about something unavoidable and I suppose it is. But the rain has also had a positive effect on my writing.
Last summer was a good one in terms of weather. I spent a lot of time away in the campervan in Northumberland and also managed to do quite a bit of walking in Cumbria but I didn’t get much writing done. I wanted to be out in the sunshine and, when autumn arrived, I had to go back to my ‘other’ job and earn some money.
I expected this summer to be similar. It was with a heavy heart that I committed to marking GCSE exams all through June because I felt I’d be missing out on the best of the weather. Wrong. It rained for a large chunk of June. I didn’t get any writing done but I didn’t feel like I was missing out on walking as everywhere was so wet.
July brought a sense of freedom. Exams marked, I was ready to hit the hills. Wrong again. There were some good days but they were fewer and further between as the month progressed and I found that most of the walking I managed was with the dog either through the local woods or down by the ever-swelling river.
And as for August…just have a look at the photograph of my garden taken a few days ago.
So I’ve been writing. I started a new novel in May, took June off to do the marking and got back to it in July. Yesterday I glanced at the word count and I’d written 43,000 words – 30,000 of them in the last six weeks. I was hoping to finish a first draft by the end of the year but now I think it might be done by November. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been so disciplined and consistent with my writing. All thanks to the weather.
I’ve just looked out of the window and it’s brightening up – better get the dog out before the next deluge!