December doesn’t rush.
It pauses.
The year inhales and holds its breath—right here, in the narrow space between what has been and what has not yet arrived. This is threshold energy: the liminal moment where endings soften and beginnings whisper instead of shout.
If you’re a writer, you may feel it as a strange tension—quiet on the surface, electric underneath. Words feel close but not fully formed. Scenes flicker. Characters knock but don’t yet enter. You might feel tired and inspired at the same time.
That’s not a block.
That’s a doorway.
What Threshold Energy Really Is
In folklore and myth, thresholds are powerful places:
doorways, crossroads, twilight, solstices. They are moments where rules blur and transformation becomes possible.
December carries that same magic.
- The old year loosens its grip
- The new year hasn’t demanded anything yet
- Time feels softer, slower, less linear
Creatively, this is when stories begin gestating, not drafting.
This is not the season of output.
This is the season of becoming.
Why Stories Choose December
Stories don’t always want speed.
Sometimes they want shelter.
December offers:
- Darkness that invites inward listening
- Quiet that allows subconscious ideas to surface
- Permission to rest without abandoning creativity
Many writers feel guilt this time of year for not “doing enough.” But historically, winter was when people told stories, dreamed futures, and listened for omens.
Your imagination remembers this—even if your calendar doesn’t.
Signs a Story Is Being Born (Not Written—Yet)
You might be in threshold energy if:
- You keep thinking about a character without knowing their plot
- A single image or emotion keeps returning
- You feel protective of an idea but not ready to explain it
- Writing feels heavy, but thinking feels rich
- You crave journaling, note-taking, or quiet walks instead of drafting
This is incubation, not avoidance.
And it matters.
How to Work With December’s Energy (Gently)
Instead of forcing productivity, try tending.
1. Create Containers, Not Goals
Light a candle. Open a notebook. Sit without expectation.
Let the story know it’s welcome—even if it stays silent.
2. Ask Softer Questions
Not “What happens next?”
But:
- Who are you becoming?
- What do you want me to understand?
- What are you afraid of?
3. Write Sideways
Lists. Fragments. Letters. Mood notes.
December stories often arrive in pieces before they arrive whole.
4. Rest Without Guilt
Rest is not the opposite of creation.
In winter, rest is the method.
The Promise of the Threshold
January will ask you to move.
December asks you to listen.
If you honor this pause, your stories will step forward later with more clarity, depth, and truth. Not because you forced them—but because you gave them time to form.
Some stories need the dark to grow their bones.
So if you feel caught between exhaustion and inspiration right now, trust this:
You are not behind.
You are standing at the door.
And something is waiting on the other side. ✨
Happy Writing ^_^
Sara's Writing Sanctuary 