I meant to put this up on Thursday before I went out of town, buuut I didn’t quite have as much time as I thought. For my (belated) twin post with Rachel from undivinelight, I’m talking about seasons. Specifically which season I most enjoy setting my stories in.
Like Rachel, thematically I like the idea of setting a story in times of transition, especially from one season to another. Or the main times of change, autumn and spring themselves. I find I don’t always actually do that, though. Despite how beautiful I find those times, or how well they’d work on a meta level, almost every story I’ve ever made a concentrated attempt at starts in the winter.
I honestly have no idea why this is. I hate winter. I hate the cold. And there’s only so many ways to describe the beautifully glistening frost or the dreary gray slush before it starts to get old. My best guess is that I gravitate toward that season because it adds an extra conflict for the characters. Two of my three stories deal extensively with travel and put the protagonists in situations where they’ll have to fend for themselves outdoors and forage for food and shelter. So setting they have the added external struggle just to get by. The third has a very ill protagonist whose already frail health declines further in the cold.