I feel October stealthily creeping up, disguised in a shawl of brisk, cool temperatures. A harbinger of rain, sleet, snow and ice, of evenings spent cocooned in blankets warming toes by the fireplace. I see through October’s guise and recognize it as a portender of death, the final nail in the coffin for summer, but only a prelude to winter’s icy embrace which hankers up ahead.
Fall is my favorite time to write, when life has less distractions and the heaviness of autumn lays a sound barrier blanket over the static noise, muffling the sounds of the outside world. It’s a quiet, cozy time for me. I can immerse myself more fully into my characters and their lives and be more attentive to the stories they tell. It’s a time for creating, for breathing life into the fancies of my imagination.