The first six months of 2010 I wrote over 500,000 words; over 200 chapters worth of stories.

The words poured out of me like water from a fountain.  My story, while without an outline, was clear as could be.  My characters spoke loudly, demanding and seeking their best outlet of expression.

I had the story I was writing, plus one other that was forming, plotting, growing in my head.  The excitement was palpable.  The itch to write…insatiable.

I drove my husband nuts with my hours upon hours on the computer writing page after page of a story he has no interest in reading (romance is so not in his realm of interest). At times the housework suffered for creative endeavors.

Then as happens every year, it happened again.

It disappeared.

Closing up shop for the winter. Preparing for the holidays. My ideas and words slow as the gorgeous colors of fall start to emerge.

Or sooner.

Perhaps as my first thought of Christmas tasks hit.  I make some many gifts by hand, my creativity can only stretch so far.

So while I’m knitting, sewing, decorating, and baking in anticipation of the holidays…my characters and my writing muse go on vacation.

I imagine about now they’re drunk on tequila, soaking up the sun in some warmer client.  While I work soft yarns between my fingers, my computers keys take a break. While I try to get in shape in time to ruin it with stacks of Christmas cookies, my muse puts her feet up in some foreign land and relaxes in preparation for the new year and the chance to strike with crazy ideas and plots.

This is why I no longer do NaNo…after failing for 3 years straight I realized November is not the time for me to try to write.  My mind is elsewhere, my creative urges turning toward the holiday season.

I will continue with my challenges, and try to remain present here, but I learned long ago to flow with my muse.  If I force out the writing, I hate it.

I look forward to the spring, when the ghost town that is my imagination sparks back to life.  When characters start yelling at me again, demanding to be heard.  When my next story faces the blank sheet in front me and pours forth.

Until then…100 words, and 15 words at a time, I will keep my writing spirit alive; as well as this blog.  Leaving more time to devote to other endeavors.  Nothing will be forced, and the joy will be greater.