The nip of fall is definitely in the air, though we could, of course, have some more hot weather before the season actually turns. All my life, I’ve loved autumn best–starting school, new clothes and piles of paper and boxes of pencils, the changing leaves, and that still-distant (to a child, anyway) promise of the approaching holidays. The horses are starting to grow thicker coats. We’ve put salt licks out for the deer.
For me, the new year really starts in September, not in January. Kind of an internal clock kind of thing.
I love new starts. I’m settling in to write “A McKettrick Christmas” and “Christmas at Stone Creek”. One is historical, one contemporary, and they are about the same length. I’m going to try writing them simultaneously. I’ve never written more than one book at a time, even short ones like these, so it’s something of an experiment. You’ll know how it’s going by tuning in to my blog regularly. Anyway, that’s why I titled today’s entry as I did–that wonderful, snuggly, settling-in to do something you really, really love. You know the feeling.
When it comes to Christmas, I’m still a kid. I get excited, thinking about warm fires on the hearth and snow…
To work. I’m digressing, which is a sure sign I should shut up.
I’m sorry this will be up late. I can’t seem to get it to post.
This may be a job for super-Chris.
