In her book Wintering, Katherine May writes that there are periods in our lives when we must retreat, in order to care for and repair ourselves. I had a set back a few weeks ago. I received an email letting me know that I hadn’t progressed to the next stage of a writing competition that I had entered. While it was the response that I was expecting, I was obviously more invested than I thought, because it knocked me sideways. To the point that, almost 3 weeks later, I haven’t written a thing beyond the blog post I started last week, which I quit after one paragraph.
In the book, May writes:
Wintering is a season in the cold. It is a fallow period in life when you’re cut off from the world, feeling rejected, sidelined, blocked from progress, or cast into the role of an outsider.
These are all feelings that have resonated in the weeks since receiving that email. I don’t know why is affected me so badly, after all, rejection is a fundamental part of a writer’s life. Plus, it isn’t the first one that I have received. But, I am not built for rejection. It is a large part of why I put off writing for so long. My skin is thin. I already feel like I am not good enough. To be told that by other people can be too much. I know though, that if I want to write, it is a feeling that I will need to become accustomed to. I also know that the only way to do that is to receive so many rejections, that the feeling becomes second nature.
A welcome wintering retreat
But, I’m not there yet, and so, I wallowed. Then I remembered May’s book, which I read on it’s release in 2020. I recognised that I had entered a cold season. That I needed to retreat from the world and from the page. That I needed to let myself rest. Over these last couple of weeks, I have done just that. I haven’t pushed when the writing has been elusive, allowing myself instead to cosy up on the sofa reading book after book. I’ve tucked myself into bed early without guilt and slept in when I’ve needed to. I’ve busied myself with Christmas preparations and indulged in catch ups over coffee without watching the clock.
Instead of panicking that I am wasting time or worrying about what comes next, I feel a sense of peace. My only concern is what my body and mind need in this, the present moment. I’ve realised that they know what that is, if only I quiet and listen. I have no doubt that I’ll get back on track and that when I will do, I will be all the better for this period of retreat. As May writes:
Wintering brings about some of the most profound and insightful moments of our human experience, and wisdom resides in those who have wintered.
Until then, I am enjoying this time spent at home, hunkered down against the cold, dark nights. Propped up in bed immersed in my latest fantasy novel. Watching Christmas movies with a big mug of tea and my favourite mint chocolate. I always thought that I was a summer person, but this wintering, it’s growing on me.
Wintering, by Katherine May
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