A Quality of Light

I anticipate this time of the year like no other, and it's not just because we're now within a month of Nightshade's release date. It feels not unlike fate that my debut novel will be published at the heart of autumn, my favorite season and the one in which I feel the most myself.

I couldn't imagine living in a part of the world where the seasons didn't change. There's an energy to the shift that never fails to fill me with wonder. One of my favorite characteristics of autumn is the way light changes.

Spring's light sparkles, like dew on newly sprouted leaves. It's full of promise and makes me giddy. Summer's light is pure power - it warms you up and exhausts you at the same time. But autumn's light is subtle. It slides through leaves, rolling over them, seeming to almost paint them with the waning sun's very shades of gold and rust. It gleams and lingers. Walking in my neighborhood, surrounded by autumn's glow I experience profound contentment. I hardly know how to describe it, only that it makes me feel a rightness with the world unlike any other.

Today is Mabon, the autumnal equinox. The light will slip slowly into darkness from now until the Winter Solstice, reminding us of life's mysteries and the hidden workings of the spirit world. May the magic of this season bring you wisdom and joy.

Mabon

It's a day to stop and think about shifting cycles and time - Mabon, the autumn equinox. Today light and dark are in perfect balance, but tomorrow our descent into the long night of winter begins.

Autumn is my favorite season, but it's a challenging and volatile time of year. The quickening of day into night puts life into a frenzied pace, culminating that chaos that is the holiday season - which are never relaxing or restorative in the way it seems they should be.

As much as I know time will seem to speed up, carried by an unseen current that drives summer away, I still love this moment. It's the only time when I can in a space of minutes see the abundance of morning glories that still sing of languid summer and promise its return...


but feel twinges of anticipation at the discovery of pumpkinlings that whisper of harvest's bounty, bonfires, and the comfort of the hearth on chilly winter nights.
Today summer and autumn hold hands and dance, giving the world at chance to witness them in harmony before summer's fades away, still full of light and laughter, while autumn takes our hand to lead us along its darkening forest paths.

Acronym Dreams

Those of you connected to the book/writing world are probably, like me, all too aware that the BEA takes place this week.

Those readers not connected to said professions just collectively went "Huh?"

BEA stands for Book Expo America. This mammoth love fest for writers, publishers, and agents takes place in New York City and features exhibitions of shiny new books, with shiny debut authors, and their shiny autograph pens.

Does my tone sound a little snarky? It is (sigh), only because I am totally, totally jealous of everyone who gets to be at BEA this week and especially of the shiny writing debutantes. I soooooo want to be one of those chosen authors who gets their two-hour signing slot at their publisher's booth.

BEA also offers a chance to snatch up ARCs. ARCs are Advanced Review Copies - books that won't be out until later this year, but if you pay $700.00 (yes, that is the correct figure I've just typed) to attend BEA you are able to purchase ARCs before they become available to the masses.

The ARCs I really want to get my hands on are Maggie Stiefvater's Shiver and Guillermo del Toro's The Strain.

Moreover BEA presents a fascinating glimpse of the book industry. Now I know any mention of the "industry" side of writing and publishing makes most writers curl up into a fetal position and I can hardly blame them, but I do harbor a (morbid?) fascination with the juggernaut of agents, editors, publishers, and distributors congregation in a single frenzied space of days to make the printing world go round.

I'd like to see it. I hope someday I will and as a participant, not just a spectator.

On another note, my neighborhood is currently subject to a strange natural phenomenon: a cotton explosion.

In front of our home grows a massive cottonwood tree and at the same time each year it sends millions of fluffy white spheres into the air.
The atmosphere is so thick with parachuting seeds a glance out the window would make you think it's snowing in May (unfortunately in Minnesota that would not be a completely unheard of occurence, but thankfully in this case that isn't what's happening).
(Many thanks to Gwyn and Rocco for posing in this photo, under normal circumstances they'd be standing only on green grass rather than a layer of what looks like a cross between snow and dense cobwebs. Go spring!)

Sounds of the Seasons

Are there songs or albums you can only listen to at certain times of the year?

I'm not talking "Silver Bells" at Christmas or "Monster Mash" at Halloween here. The weather's gone all summer-like in Minneapolis and I'm suddenly itching for tunes that match the heat of the day. Why are certain sounds tied to seasons?

I always want to listen to Beck's Guero in the summer. And it feels wrong to listen to Bjork's Vespertine if there isn't at least frost on the ground.

I've written in the past about the diverse places from which my stories derive, but I've yet to mention the preeminence of music in my writing.

My books all have soundtracks - not just playlists, but actual soundtracks for the scenes that occurs. My characters also have what I'd dub "theme songs" that reflect their major traits and/or life situation.

One of the things I love most about music is the way a song can catapult me into a scene I've been writing or conjure up an entirely new scene or character.

Or sometimes, an entire book.

Like today, when I was driving home, windows down enjoying the gorgeous, sun-drenched afternoon when "Fresh Blood" from the Eels forthcoming album Hombre Lobo (June 2) came on the radio.

And I was immediately in the sequel to my novel. I've never heard this song before this afternoon and yet it encapsulates the spirit of the book and I was thrilled.

On a related note, sometimes I imagine how lovely it would be to have a book with a cover. Here are a couple dreamings of that ilk.