Illustrated initials from a German fairytale book (1919 edition)

A Writer’s Love Letter to Autumn

I have recently realised that pretty much all the books I’ve written begin in the Autumn. 

I suppose it isn’t surprising, as it’s my favourite season, though perhaps not the reasons that make it so ‘Instagrammable’: Since I wasn’t brought up with Halloween, the idea of knocking on strangers’ doors demanding sweets will never stop being weird to me, and pumpkin spice latte tastes like feet frankly.

The colours are nice, and a cosy sweater is a source of endless pleasure, of course, but neither is what makes me gravitate towards that season with every fresh page of a new book. 

There is an excitement in the seasons of change. After the lazy, hazy Summer and before the seemingly endless Winter, you have movement, a shift, the promise of something new and exciting, and different.  

In real life, like in my writing, I’m fearful of stagnation. The movement and change in the environment propel me towards building up my own momentum, refocusing on my own direction. And how natural it is, therefore, that Autumn is when my stories begin, where everything within the characters and their world propels them towards something new, something different. 

While many view this season with a sense of melancholy, the dread of the shorter days, and colder nights, they fill me with a sense of excitement. There is movement in the change, and I view change as necessary. It’s the striving of it, the hopefulness that once the leaves are shed, there will come a time when the buds form again. 

And when the wind picks up, and the soft ground squelches under your boots, you can look for the same hopefulness and determination.