I love Fall. The crisp scent in the air, woodsy overtones as hearths warm with aged wood and the never ending sound of my husband’s chain saw. Fall is cutting time. And if nothing in the world puts a smile on the hubby’s face, it’s the “I’m going into lumberjack mode…” season.
As I sit on the front porch, mind turned inward to whatever scene I’m writing, I’m calmed by the constant hum in the distance. Then there’s the silence. The horrible horrible silence. I’m yanked out of my scene, certain he’s lost a limb and is bleeding to death in the woods. I listen. I wait. The dogs are with him -- he’s fine. I’m sure he’s fine. But what if? He almost sliced his leg off with the weed whacker last year (another story, for another time). I walk to the edge of the woods (we have 11 acres - I only have a general idea as to where he’s gone). I call his name. The dogs arrive. Still no hubby. Until I see a familiar figure climbing up the edge of our back property, old pan in hand and a silly grin on his face. I’d forgotten one important thing about Fall - it means the return of Gold Rush and lazy Sunday mornings watching the DVR’d show. And then I also remember the very utmost important thing about Fall - the return of The Walking Dead. I’m a happy gal in the Fall. Who wouldn’t be? Great weather, roaring fires, scruffy men digging for gold and zombies!
Although it’s still in the 80s here in Georgia, my front porch is my writing haven. I have a little nook where I’ve set up a small table that’s angled to allow the best view. In the distance, I can see the glimmer of my neighbor’s small lake. The breeze can shift from nothing to a full out “I live on a cruise ship” wind force gale. I love every aspect -- even when my furniture is being whipped into a frenzy and sent sailing into the woods.
My little writing haven affords me the ability to watch the lazy glide of the Red Tail Hawks, squawking flocks of Canadian Geese and a myriad of other flora and fauna. It’s soothing and truly my most favorite place on earth. I don’t write to music. I know, weird. But it’s too distracting for me. I prefer to listen to music when the muse stops her chattering or I’m struggling with a plot. When I sit down to write, the sounds of nature inspire.
I’m hard at work editing Angel Falls for a late October release. There’s been a few plot lines that have needed extensive revision, so I’m pushing forward through those. As I near the end of a book, my mind turns toward the next one so it’s already busy churning away in the background on Jake and Cassidy’s next adventure. As the temperatures drop, the plotting expands. Cold Seat in Heaven will have a winter debut - I’ll keep you posted on a release date.