Outside, it’s still in the 90s, though we’re coming out of the barren summer and starting to get the first rains of autumn. A lot of the land still looks summer scorched, and no leaves have turned, but the winds are picking up and the sky is clouding over quite a bit lately.
I am already starting to look forward to the harvest season, with more excitement than I’ve felt for approaching holidays for a long time. I will be settled in to a new home by the time October rolls around, and already out on new adventures.
And, best of all, I won’t have to miss Joe anymore. I should be able to move up there in about a month. So, bring on October, by then I’ll be unpacked. Our routines will be settled in, the air will be a more comfortable temperature for exploring, and I get to play with the ghosts of poets and eat sushi in China Town. This is worse than waiting for Christmas when you’re young enough for your gifts to still be awesome.
So, naturally the Halloween season is already beginning in my heart. I’m getting a head start by spending some time thinking about monsters.
I pulled out my copy of Writing Monsters by Philip Athans and am rereading it, doing the slow, thinky kind of reading while I doodle and daydream. Squamous plot bunnies keep slithering off my pages through the moonlit fog to prey on the unwary traveler.
Sometime soon I’d like to get back to a couple of book ideas I have kicking around, but first I want to spend some time engaging in a little spiral learning, rereading skill books and churning my bunnies through the creativity machine for some practice. It seems that I’ll be more likely to be able to focus on novels after the boxes have been unpacked, or at least most of them.