Falling for Autumn

Something about the fall infects my writing.

Maybe it’s the cool mornings and the afternoons that are hot enough to make you shed layers. Perhaps it’s the thick blanket of fog that covers everything and smothers my visibility on my daily commute into work. It likely has something to do with flu season ramping up, mixed with the death or dormancy of every green thing in sight. Whatever it is, it’s back in the air again.

The first novel I wrote (the one I’m querying at the time of writing) was set in the early fall, and featured enough travel to move from warm to cool and back to warm. Something about knowing that the leaves are changing and the animals are preparing  for the winter gives me leave to ramble, to verbally wander and pontificate like an enormous bag of useless soliloquies. Given that I write young adult fiction that is far more commercial than literary, it could be a problem. 

But I don’t mind. It’s good to slow down, to stroll when it’s so tempting to sprint. It’s nice to overwrite my scenes and have to extricate words during the first edit. I’m no poet, and I’m certainly no wordsmith. I’m just a guy who likes to let his environment dictate his authorial mood. 

Lots of friends having babies? I bet a character or two of mine will deal with the issue. Me and the Missus having a spat? Look out for the budding lovers in my tales. Are the sun's rays getting lower as the days get shorter, making the beams fall patchy and spotty? Here comes the dappled sunlight! 

What's the point, I wonder? Why does my mind latch onto this, of all topics? I think it’s simple: As we enter a season where depression ramps up and our environment takes a few months to actively work against us, I believe it’s important, at least for me, to slow down while things are still gorgeous and inspire reflection. 

To breathe, to look around, to dare to be inspired. 

Happy Fall Y’all.