Taking Inventory
by Téa Noelle
After the noise of December, I notice how much space opens when the calendar turns. As a songwriter, that space can feel both inviting and uncomfortable. There’s a pull to define the year immediately, to sustain momentum, to prove that I’m still creating. Winter, however, asks something different of me.
January makes me want to take inventory. Unfinished songs, abandoned sessions, loose lyrics strewn through my notebook or on my phone. Some of them still feel alive. Others feel like they belong to the past, but I search for new ways for them to resonate. Recharging old work can be just as meaningful as finishing something new.
Winter has a way of slowing my writing down. The songs that arrive in January tend to be more inward, and I don’t find myself preoccupied with the outcome or “product” of my creative work. I used to think this was a call to reflect, to generate new ideas for future endeavors. But I’ve learned that it is more of a time for listening. Connecting with myself, but also tuning in to the world around me, and being inspired by how my experiences resonate with the collective.
I’m curious how other local artists approach the quiet season, and what this time asks of them creatively.
“The holidays can make me feel like the black sheep, so I chase the sun. Walking to the river, lighting fires, trying to hold onto warmth. I hibernate a little, cook soups and stews, spend time with my kids, and keep creating. Winter hurts your bones, but I love the way the leaves change color. That’s when I finish old songs and start new ones.” – Jeff Moore
“Winter is my reset. I reflect, break down my stage setup, and plan how to improve my live show for the year ahead.” – Nathan Ignacio
The new year doesn’t require declarations or certainty. It’s enough to stay open, to keep writing honestly, and to trust that even slow beginnings are still beginnings.
