Snow bad for artist, good for writer...

I hate snow... Always have, always will. Although now I have a greater appreciation for it. Me being a poor mixed media artist I worked outside a great deal especially when using harsh chemicals, resins, or spray painting. All of which are my favorite past times. I was working in my garage/studio when I would do this. When it was hot out it was awesome, but when the frigid cold came a calling it became very frustrating. Me being the stubborn person that I am would just refuse to stop and up my doses of alcohol and layers of socks, pants, and hats until it was tolerable, but this still did not help when substance and materials needed to cure. Sometimes my work would have to simply stop due to mother nature.

Now, on the flip side I noticed when I was walking this morbidly obese brown lab (whom the owner is I will leave anonymous as to not shame there animal abuse and neglect.) One of my many good deeds that always goes punished. I have been writing my second novel as you should very well know, but probably don't because nobody reads these ridiculous ramblings.

The snow was coming down by the bucket fulls today and I was very grateful because I wanted nothing more to go back into my writing womb. The world in which my creativity flows because I have nothing else. In this little cubby hole of a room barricaded in with technology is where I write. Crap, it's probably where I spend 95 % of my day. If you saw where I lived you wouldn't blame me. Anyway, my point being, that unlike my art, writing seems to flourish in the most isolated of habitats. Unlike art, the less stimuli and interaction with the real world the more productive and inspired one becomes. One simply lives in the written world. It is easier to be sucked in and thus easier to create because there is rarely a transition from one reality to the other. The snow gives me an excuse not to go out, not to look for a job, not to do anything I don't want to do, or do anything I want to do. It is the perfect motivator. I now have a greater understanding why writers always prefer that stereotypical log cabin wintery ideal with music playing.

I prefer the lack of comfortability as well. Just give me the internet so I can get pandora. com radio, something to drink (preferably cranberry juice, Dr. Pepper, or Mountain Dew), a shag carpeted floor to sleep, a stopwatch, a bathroom where I can take a hot shower and I am good to go. Oh, and a xbox360 w/ John Madden football just in case I need to do something or than write.

Writing is something that is best done alone, without in stimuli, and no distraction. Also, it best to be void of all human contact with perhaps slight moments of brief interaction so one doesn't go completely into the 11th dimension. Not that I don't like people I just find a majority of them to be highly annoying. I'd much rather be a recluse and then go to a real city for a week or two and live it up and then go back to the desolate lands of nowhereville's Ohio. There I can always feel under appreciated and completely worthless which is exactly what I need to keep pushing me towards my creative apex... Wonder if that's a word... Pretty sure it is and pretty sure I used it in the right context.

So, to sum up the lesson for today... Being an artist in winter... SUCKS! Being a writer in winter... The COOLEST thing ever!

Oh, and on a side note... How come whenever AI have a job I never have any money and don't do anything fun, but when I don't have a job I get to go to fun places and do cool things. Makes me wonder why I ever get crappy jobs at all...

Oh, yeah! I enjoy being miserable? I guess. Sometimes I think I am struck with severe bouts of dementia (diarrhea of the mind and mouth), but aren't all artist at one time or another... At least the great ones are.