It was such a long winter. More than once during those bitter months I wondered if the season would ever end. In many ways, winter personifies the writer’s struggle. Isolating. Bleak. Endless. No fruit, only icy gusts of rejection—or worse: silence.
As harsh as winters can be, without dormancy, there would be no spring. Writers’ winters may in some ways drain our tired souls when we feel there’s nothing left to tap, but at the Continue reading “New Beginnings”