I Wish I Could Write On Rainy Days

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I wish I could write on rainy days. Authors do that, don’t they?  They sit down in their study or in the backyard under their oak tree or at their typewriter in their den and they write their words when they want.  They breathe letters.  They inhale inspiration and exhale epics without thought or pause or effort. Their pens flow on command for fun, for profit or empty prose.  They write when they want to because they can.

They write on buses or trains on Tuesdays or holidays and just about any day in between, don’t they?  They create their craft out of the ether and they bleed it into the cloudy sky on sunny days, rainy days or Wednesdays.  Write is what they do and they do it whenever they want to.  They tell their trouble “go…onto that page because I say so.”  They do all of these things and they deliver early, before the morning paper or the afternoon deadline.

They lock their doors.  They go on family cruises.  They stare at the sea outside their oval window and they call room service for tea, coffee and club sandwiches.  They take afternoon naps and autumn walks around the upper deck.  They shower and preen and dress in black tie and dine around the captain’s table where they sip champagne, eat shrimp cocktail, graze on after dinner pastries and swallow sweets. Then they retire to their rooms after laughing and chuckling and telling tales and they sleep without anything on their minds other than the sound of their ship sailing into the waves.  And when they arrive back at port by sunrise, they unload their luggage, drive leisurely down the open road past hills and valleys covered in maple trees shedding their orange and brown leaves until they arrive at their home where they turn the key and swing open the back door so their eager, excited, tail wagging dogs can greet them because they’ve been gone so long.

And when they get settled, they walk into the den, sit down at their desk, put their fingers on the keys and write whatever and whenever they gawd damn please.  That’s how writers write, don’t they?  They write on weekends, holidays, Saturdays and rainy days.  Someday, I hope to write on rainy days.

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8 thoughts on “I Wish I Could Write On Rainy Days

  1. I find it fortuitous that at the exact moment I am wondering what Peter has been up to, I look through the ever growing list in my email inbox and find your name there, standing out like a red M&M in the midst of a sea of blue ones. 🙂 I had to smile all the way through reading this bit, Peter. I want to write on rainy days, too. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love writing on rainy days! Even better if it’s a dark and stormy night. I’ll even open a window a bit so I can get that smell of rain and nighttime.

    Like

  3. My friend, you are not alone. I never plan to get up in the morning with the thought that I will write something that day. I let the day go with all its routineness. And some days an event, phrase or image outside myself may present a spark. I will then write the idea down and come to it when I’ve given time to mull it over. It is more from inspiration than perspiration. Always have a pen and pad nearby.
    Mozart said that a musical score would come to him in its entirety. All sections of the orchestra and their roles. It came to him in a great white heat. I for one can in no way be considered genius. Yet we all can be inspired.
    -Alan

    Liked by 1 person

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