Although it’s an artifact of writing more slowly than time passes and writing in linear time, I am experiencing an illicit thrill to find that my fictional season has lined up with the real world’s. It’s like I’m getting away with something. What, I don’t know - my protag is in a different climate.

With Eureka, I wrote Christmas morning on Christmas morning. I started writing the Saint in the spring and it was midsummer in the book; and what with my month and a half long pause, we’ve synched up. So she’s experiencing back to school reminicence at the time I’m innundated with it.


  1. Hey, I hadn’t thought about that. Mine’ll be lining up soon, too. Weird. I really love putting in seasonal weather details – in fact I sometimes wonder whether anyone will ever read my stuff and think, “Here’s someone who spent WAY too much time thinking about how to describe the weather!” – but I love being able to add the physical experience of the day/season to whatever’s going on.

  2. The closest thing I’ve got to a novel was mostly pounded out for NaNoWriMo during the month of November, 2005. I don’t remember how far I got then, although I blogged the whole experience so I suppose I could find out. But the story was very specific calendrically, beginning in July and trailing off sometime in May, so I did pass myself on the calendar. I don’t remember feeling myself go by, though.

  3. Rachel’s comment reminded me of an experience when I was in high school and in love with a penpal. He lived in Boston, I was in Kitchener Ontario. I remember one night writing a letter to him. I began sitting on the balcony of our apartment, describing the setting sun over the black silhouettes of the trees in the park. Then I described lying on the floor in front of the open doors feeling the spray of rain through the screen door and watching the drapes billow with the breeze of the summer downpour. I waxed poetic and poured out my soul in purple prose for pages.
    We had our second face to face meeting a month or so after the letter. I asked him if he’d received the letter since he hadn’t actually answered it. His response was, “Oh yeah, I remember getting that letter. I kind of skipped over the weather report though.”

  4. Unrelated to this post, I’m sorry, but I don’t see an email posted and I wanted to tell you how very much I appreciate your comments on the straw feminist thread at SP. You so calmly and compassionately and intelligently said the things that I could only think to say in a hurt, angry, offended way. I often search out your name in comments there for just that reason.

  5. @Beth – OUCH.

    @Linda – Thank you. That is really good to hear.
    The particular issue of moms is one I have, in the past, lost my cool over – so I’m getting practised at being calm about it. I’m glad to know it meant something to you.

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