Do you fall for Fall? Are you a Winter wannabe? This week at the YA Indie Carnival, we’re talkin’ about our fave seasons to write.
Before I get started, just a brief report. I’d like to thank my fellow indie writers who allowed me a brief delay on this week’s post due to the Midnight Child Launch Party held last night. This was my first official, public book launch party and it was AMAZING! Thanks to all who came. It was a night I’ll never forget.
So, back to seasons. Transfer Student author Laura A. H. Elliott asked us to really take a look at our writings to see if we could spot a pattern. Is there a preferred season?
I laughed to myself when I first considered the topic. You see, in the Midnight Guardian series, the Mogdoc Empire is a place that was banished from the face of the Earth and now stands frozen time without sun or moon…seasonless.
After that good chuckle, I started thinking about all the times I write about late summer/fall. In southern Ohio, it’s a break from the depressing heat of summer and the bristling cold of winter. The following scene came to mind from Of Sun & Moon. It’s one of my favorites, enjoy!
Colby moved through the field to meet Keira at The Landing. The Landing was not a restaurant or popular hangout. It was simply as the name indicates…a boat landing, mostly used by locals to launch their bass boats for early morning fishing or for the occasional tourist kayak or canoe.
The breeze began to pick up. The green cornstalks danced and shimmied at Colby’s sides as he made his way across the field to meet his friend. He took in the warm, sweet air. It was the kind of air that only precedes a summer storm. With no one watching, he closed his eyes and stretched out his arms to the wind as he walked. A weightless, carefree feeling pulled him open as Colby took in a deep breath and let summer fill his lungs.
Soon, he could feel the ground beneath him turning from uneven, cultivated dirt to rolling gravel. He had reached the end of the field. He stumbled and opened his eyes as he stepped from the corn rows onto the gravel path which led to the river’s edge.
“Thought you said ten minutes? Try fifteen,” shouted Keira from the corner of the field.
Her comment rang out like a starter pistol and the two took off. Step after step, breathing harder and harder, they pushed their way across the narrow path. Keira, receiving a definite starting position advantage, took the lead. She was quickly overtaken by Colby who immediately stumbled and fell back to second.
“I win!” Keira yelled as her right foot struck the first plank of the boardwalk. She was not even out of breath.
Colby huffed as he dusted himself off and rose to his feet. It was then that the particularly colorful sunset took him off guard with its vibrant reds and oranges. The sky was ablaze falling opposite the quiet, blue waters of the river. And there in the middle, danced the raven-haired Keira, still celebrating from her recent victory. Colby wished to linger in this summer moment, but in a brilliant flash, lightning broke the sweet orange sunset.
Keira stopped when she noticed that he was not right beside her. “You okay?”
“Hurry up then, it’s gonna rain.” She grinned as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the shelter.
The Landing consisted of a creaky boardwalk leading to a rickety, wooden pier that sprang from the corn fields and jutted out into the river. Beside the pier was a park shelterhouse with open sides, a metal roof, a concrete floor, and stuffed with a half dozen weather-beaten picnic tables. When the river was high, the shelterhouse was flooded. When the river receded, it left behind a wake of mud and driftwood on the floor. For this reason, the structure was rarely used. Eventually, weeds and vines grew to almost entirely enclose one side. However, on most summer days, like this one, it was still the perfect spot to watch the sun set over the river. That’s why Colby and Keira spent so much of their time there.
As the first, fat raindrops struck the tin roof of the shelter, Colby stretched to retrieve his flashlight from its high hiding place on the inside ledge above the entrance. He didn’t need it yet. The rainclouds failed in their attempt to restrain the sunlight that was now streaming from the horizon. Instead, he tucked it under his arm and headed to his usual seat at the end of the centermost picnic table. Keira climbed on top of the same table and collapsed.
“I can’t believe this is our last day of summer,” she moaned to the shelterhouse rafters. “It’s gone. Gone! Do we really have to go back tomorrow?”
Read about these authors’ preferred seasons…