Is it Spring Yet?
And what to do if a false spring hits your writing life
What if this is a false spring?
After a couple of days when sunshine ruled and a sweatshirt kept me warm outside, I yearned for the change of seasons. For real.
For a couple of years, winter had been ruling my writing life. That puts the Westeros doomsday prediction of “Winter is coming” into bleak perspective.
New ideas have been sprouting recently. My creative soul thaws. Fun short story ideas. An easy flash fiction rolls forth. For an actual submission call with a magazine who’d published my stories before.
Then I waken to a thick fog. Lethargy claims me. Why even bother? Look at the stuff I’ve already published.
Since it’s tax time, I can see the stark reality of reader interaction with my work.
Amazon sends a 1099. The box shows I earned eighteen dollars and change. And most of that came because my sister pushed her book club to read one of my books. Not because I participated in a few sales.
Sure, I sold a half-dozen books at the different in-person author events I attended in 2025. And two books sold at a shop in town.
Why am I writing what no one wants to read?
It’s the same song and not even a different verse. Just the refrain on repeat:
No one cares.
No one reads your stories.
What’s the point?
Twelve years in, you’d think I’d have silenced that tune. Don’t I coach writers through the throes of imposter syndrome and lack of motivation?
“Find your why,” I tell them. Post it in big letters where you can see it from your writing desk.
So, if (my writing) winter truly is ending, why would I write something new?
Because I have a cool idea. Because it’s fun.
Or because I set a goal to write 500 words today?
Just because I write stories doesn’t mean I’ll publish them. And if I don’t, there’s no chance for readers to ignore them.
And no chance for them to be read and enjoyed either.
Is this seemingly endless gray sky the sign of winter’s return? Or will spring come sooner than the calendar indicates?
What’s certain is — it will come. It does every year.
Some years, it comes early with crocuses and daffodils laughing their way through the last week of February.
Other years, snow might fall to herald in April’s showers.
But the sun rises. The earth thaws. Bulbs send sprouts upwards, breaking the ground with verdant persistence.
Is the long winter on my writing soul going to end with this year’s arrival of springtime glory? I can only shrug.
And write the words.
I’ve managed to meet the short story challenge for two out of two months. Not that those stories were masterpieces. Neither of them went through my stringent revision and self-editing process. That’s where the magic is revealed.
And that hard work is reserved for things I mean to publish. Whether here on Substack for my faithful readers. Or in Spark Flash Fiction Magazine. Or somewhere altogether different.
Writing the words is work some days. Other days, they flow like water, gushing from the snow melt deep in my creative well. The Muse smiles as her fingers flit through the icy stream.
But editing the writing always requires work. Doable. I have years of experience. It can be done.
But if this is a false spring, will it be worth it to invest the hours and the effort?
What makes something “worth the investment” for you?