Seasons is what Rhobin would like us to write about in April. My immediate reaction was, “I don’t pay seasons much attention. At best, they are background.”
Only… quite some time ago, she wanted us to write about the weather. I’ve found that, since writing that post, the weather has received far more mention in my writing. Even when revising some old material, I found my characters commenting on it — though usually in a humorous or sarcastic way. So, I expect that thinking about this post will season my future writing.
I suspect that the further you live from the equator, the more the seasons influence your thinking, and therefore your writing. My location has four seasons (a joke is, every day, but that’s a comment about the weather), but the variation is slight by global standards. We can still grow vegetables and admire some flowers in winter, and get cold snaps in summer.
When I wrote about Hungary in my multiple award winning Anikó: The stranger who loved me, there was the snow and ice of winter, compared to pavement shimmering in the heat at the same time of the year in Australia.
But now, I need to put this post away, and reread my current work to see where the seasons can play a role. Trouble is, that story is on a planet that has no seasons: its axis of rotation has almost no inclination. And I am not inclined to upset billions of beings by rocking their planet around.
My partners in round-rhobining live in more variable climates than I do. Please visit them to see what they have to say about it: