I use to live in an 1820’s Greek revival house in CT. It had five fireplaces, and more drafts than a couple pieces of Swiss cheese. The central living room had the best wood stove. In the early morning, I would stand with the wood stove door just barely ajar, and carefully light a rolled up staff of papers. It worked best when I had done a roll and a twist (making it more of a cotton candy stick than a log). I’d light one end, hope it stayed lit and then quickly reach the lit end up into the stove pipe section of the wood stove, twirling it around in the pipe. If I could get the upper end to warm a little, the draft would begin to work. The key was to have the fire all set to light in that instant, the magical moment when the upward draft grabbed hold of the air.
Writing again feels like that same magical moment in time. A quickly created twisted stick of paper sputters and almost burns out until by some magic the air grabs it, and the flames shoot up the chimney
I never quite know if it will happen., but it’s always worth it if the wind catches the tiny bit of heat.
Sometimes the downdraft shoves stale ash into my face.
Despite traumatic childhood burns on my stomach and arm from a wood stove, I still appreciate the coziness they provide in the winter. Keep that fire burning, however you can manage!
Such heartwarming thoughts on this cool, deary morning, thank you, Shawn. I too, have felt stymied with my writing in recent weeks. When I struggle for more than a few hours, I turn to other creative tasks, usually heading to the kitchen for cooking or baking. This is also helpful because if I then return to writing and nothing comes, I think, "Well, at least I have accomplished something." Thanks again.
you aren't the only person I've read on substack with similar feelings about their writing currently. I wonder if it's the time of year? A sort of hibernation.
A beautiful analogy.. the “gone cold wood stove”.
I use to live in an 1820’s Greek revival house in CT. It had five fireplaces, and more drafts than a couple pieces of Swiss cheese. The central living room had the best wood stove. In the early morning, I would stand with the wood stove door just barely ajar, and carefully light a rolled up staff of papers. It worked best when I had done a roll and a twist (making it more of a cotton candy stick than a log). I’d light one end, hope it stayed lit and then quickly reach the lit end up into the stove pipe section of the wood stove, twirling it around in the pipe. If I could get the upper end to warm a little, the draft would begin to work. The key was to have the fire all set to light in that instant, the magical moment when the upward draft grabbed hold of the air.
Writing again feels like that same magical moment in time. A quickly created twisted stick of paper sputters and almost burns out until by some magic the air grabs it, and the flames shoot up the chimney
I never quite know if it will happen., but it’s always worth it if the wind catches the tiny bit of heat.
Sometimes the downdraft shoves stale ash into my face.
But hey,I can at least get a story out of that 🤭😂
I love that story, Teyani. Thanks for sharing it.
My daughter lives in Lancaster PA and I just texted her to see if she is aware of your bookstore.
Thank you, Marylou!
Despite traumatic childhood burns on my stomach and arm from a wood stove, I still appreciate the coziness they provide in the winter. Keep that fire burning, however you can manage!
Such heartwarming thoughts on this cool, deary morning, thank you, Shawn. I too, have felt stymied with my writing in recent weeks. When I struggle for more than a few hours, I turn to other creative tasks, usually heading to the kitchen for cooking or baking. This is also helpful because if I then return to writing and nothing comes, I think, "Well, at least I have accomplished something." Thanks again.
Thanks, Karen.
I sure miss our wood stove from the Lewisburg days. It's why I love feeding the cauldrons at Frey's Greenhouse.
You're a good cauldron feeder.
you aren't the only person I've read on substack with similar feelings about their writing currently. I wonder if it's the time of year? A sort of hibernation.