Doldrums

I once wrote a short story entitled "Horse Latitudes," a little piece about a marriage that is, to use another nautical term, in the doldrums. This time of year in northern California, the weather seems perpetually dominated by high pressure that builds up above the region and bakes us. I feel like a lobster in a covered pot that the cook forgot to fill with water. It'd be death with or without water, but being boiled is more dramatic than being... what--baked?

This same ridge of high pressure dominates what little bit of creative mind still exists in my pea-sized brain. My most not-so-recent short story, "The Map Reader," languishes in the needs-to-edited file, while the latest novel-in-the-works is little more than scribbles in a Rhodia notebook and a couple of plot points in search of a unified theme. In an effort to reclaim a bit of creative fire, I've resorted to reading novels rather than nonfiction--perhaps using my imagination a bit more will stoke that fire. Of course, the act of reading keeps a person away from writing, but what the hell.

Part of the secret is to pay attention--little gifts of creativity abound if we keep our eyes open. In his latest post over at These Rivers, Shawn does a nice job of illustrating what can happen when we keep our eyes and feet moving. Even sailors eventually made their way out of the Doldrums, and though they might have cursed the weather (or lack of it), I doubt they actually blamed it for anything. They put the sails up and caught whatever wind there was and moved on.