Gentle New Year Intentions and Non-Rigid Writing Practices

Winter Doldrums, Storytelling, and Beginning to Write Another Book

My leaden legs trump, trump, trumped across the vast white snow. The only sound in the muffling silence is that crunch after crunch after crunch.

I try not to feel the bitter cold, so I think about all the things I like about winter.

The list is too short.

Snow collects on my upper lip and inside my collar, chilling my spine. The wind starts to swirl white…