The Fragilities of February
Guest Post by Tami Kamin Meyer
I write this essay cozy on my couch with my three dogs. Mother Nature coats our streets, cars and powerlines with layers of freezing rain. Several inches of snow are expected in the next day, wreaking havoc on people’s ability to drive, travel and even walk safely.
Although I am not a winter lover, I admit this unfriendly weather is ideal for my work as a freelance writer. Being temporarily quarantined at home, this time due to sleet and snow, affords me the delicious opportunity to read articles I’ve bookmarked, conduct research on story ideas I’m working on and even dally in Thesaurus.com.
In my mind, February is winter’s last attempt to make our Midwestern lives miserable. If the gray skies and frigid temperatures of January didn’t cause you to lose your mind’s last marble, February’s hostility seeks to finish the job.
February acts like a bridge
But one of the greatest joys of February, which acts like a bridge between the cold of January and the increasing mildness of March, is that it is the shortest month. February is like the stuffing of an awkwardly-flavored Oreo. You don’t want to eat it, but it gets forced down your throat, anyway.
Likewise, those delightful writing-related tasks I enjoy but don’t often have the time for are akin to being the Oreo of my freelance life. One side of the cookie represents the creating, thinking, researching and writing I do. The other half is comprised of the marketing, hustling and self-promotion I do to acquire opportunities to create, think, research, and write. Finally, the stuffing is composed of the activities I undertake to expand my knowledge base or sharpen my brain, such as crossword puzzles or researching pending legislation on a matter of interest to me.
When I write, I bring all those experiences and knowledge together. I create what I hope is a delicious, captivating and unique ‘cookie’ of creative expression.
In the meantime, I will make more coffee and heat the oven. It’s time to ‘get baking.’