It’s truly autumn here now. Still not coat weather, but lovely and brisk. Leaves all over the place. And today it’s overcast and blowsy, a day made for curling up in blankets with hot chocolate and dogs and making stuff up about demons and humans and other animals
I’m never tempted by sunny days, probably because I’ve spent my entire life fighting allergies and asthma–breathing, it’s a good thing–but when the weather turns in spring or fall, I come alive. There’s just so much promise in the air in spring, so much last-ditch energy in autumn when everything’s trying to get its act together for winter. Winter here is beautiful and thanks to global warming, not nearly as cold as it used to be. Summer is amazing, but spring and autumn are the times when things move.
Which makes me think of story structure. (Everything makes me think of story structure.)
I’ve got most of Act Two done now, well into Act Three, and when I looked at Act Two, I thought, “This makes Act One look boring; have to fix that. Later.” Now that I’m in Act Three, Act Two is looking pretty pale in contrast, but that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Things are supposed to get more interesting. They just can’t start boring.
But now I’m thinking maybe the acts are seasons. Act One is summer, lots of fun stuff happening, but so much set-up, then comes the turning point and things get worse and the characters pick up speed, trying to stop the bad stuff and prepare for what’s coming. Then they hit Act Three, which is winter, everything going cold on them, a huge struggle to survive with defeat at the end, which spins into spring, a new resurgence, the good guys coming back to kick bad guy butt (in my books, YMMD). I don’t think it’s a hugely helpful analogy, I won’t be teaching it, but today it works for me, snuggled up with PBJ and hot chocolate and three dogs (Mona missed being in the picture because she’s on the pillow behind my head. It was raining. She does not do rainstorms.).
Today is a good day to write.
ETA: I went to take a picture of my back yard in the moody autumn light and the sun came out. I love this place. (Yes, I’m going to paint those benches. No, I’m not going to rake the leaves. That’s mulch, people.)