There are many places on the Webosphere that offer advice for writers on overcoming a myriad of writing-related problems. Writer's block got you down? Try talking to a monkey. Does your prose suck? Avoid using the word "thing." Do your essays lack organization? Well then be careful you don't put socks in your underwear drawer. Maybe you just can't think of any good ideas for your next story? Don't worry, some loser has thought of some for you and he's willing to let you steal them.
With all this great advice out there, I thought I might provide some of my own regarding a little discussed problem: cold fingers.
I just came in from outside. It was a nice enough night and I thought a change of scenery might do me some good. I sat at the junky Wal-mart patio set that we have on our equally junky "deck" and turned on the laptop (also junky). It was very quiet and the ideas were flowing like grape Kool-Aid, which is to say, copiously and without impediment, as grape Kool-Aid is wont to do. I was really cooking. Then one of the neighbor's dogs must have run across something rather disagreeable because she started going bonkers with the yipping and whatnot. Not to be outdone, another neighbor's dog decided to get his two cents in. It was quite a rhetorical battle. Against this melodic backdrop, some schmuck decided that 8:30 at night would be an excellent time to mow his lawn, and around this same time, the neighbors on the other side of the privacy fence got into a lengthy discussion that seemed to center around the idea that fishing is more enjoyable when one actually catches fish. (Not making this up.)
And on top of all that my fingers were getting cold.
So I came inside to blog because the only sound in my writing cave is the faint audio of The Biggest Loser drifting in from the living room. (By the way, does it bother anybody else how almost every single contestant on that show uses the word "pull" to describe their weight loss? It's never, "I dropped six pounds this week" or "I shed four pounds" or "I was pretty bummed that I only lost two pounds." It's always "I pulled a six this week." I don't even know what the hell that's supposed to mean.) And horror of all horrors, I could scarcely type, so paralyzed were my digits. I tried blowing on them. Didn't work. I tried making fists. No luck. Finally, I found a solution and I would like to share it with all those who also struggle with cold fingers.
No, not this.
Not this either.
This. (Note: not me.)