Autumn

Autumn is always a subtle endeavor in Florida. You must pay careful attention to notice its arrival, so I’ve learned to heed the signs of its advent.

Fall in many places is heralded with showy force. The temperature dips so that sweaters and jackets are returned to places of prominence in closets and wardrobe drawers. Hot chocolate supersedes lemonade on grocery lists as football fans fill thermoses full of the rich liquid to drink as they settle beneath blankets at evening games. The canopy of green that marks summer transforms into brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow.

I miss the transfiguration of the world in autumn.

However, I’ve learned an equinox and calendar cannot proclaim the arrival of fall in Florida. Autumn arrives here, not with a proclamation of trumpets, but rather with the subtlety of a softly plucked guitar.

One morning you wake to greet a soft breeze rather than the driving humid heat. The hue of blue in the sky shifts to a softer shade, an almost imperceptible abatement of harsh light. You sleep through the night without the whir of an air conditioner and eventually crack your windows, letting in the pleasant breeze sans mosquitoes.

Autumn arrives, not with the grandiose intensity I’ve always associated with my favorite season, but with attenuated clues.

My ongoing discoveries about my voice are like autumn in Florida. I’ve had to learn to pay careful attention to subtleties. I wouldn’t mind if voice insights hit me with the full force of a northeast autumn, but I’ve learned to look for minute changes instead.

Careful scrutiny is all that allows one to witness the arrival of fall here. Careful scrutiny is all that allows me to garner those important voice clues which are so valuable.

I’d like to be slammed with the revelation that I should write this or that, that my voice is perfect for a particular genre, or that my gift is to write story X.

Instead I settle for subtle clues I’m learning to recognize. These clues are everywhere when you discover what to notice.

For example, Alyson says my voice deals with allegory. My scientific mind needs proof. Just as I can’t read the words “fall begins” on a calendar and buy into the statement, neither can I just say, “Great. I write with an allegorical voice.” So I decide to look for clues. I start by trying to understand just what an allegorical voice means. My best interpretation? Representing something abstract, spiritual or other in a concrete way, using one thing as a symbol for something altogether other.

I finally agree. Where did I find my clues? My favorite books. I never assumed for a minute that Watership Down really had anything to do with rabbits. I always knew Jonathan Livingston Seagull was about more than a bird. I’ve gleaned all along that the ultimate theme of the Harry Potter series was not so much about good vs. evil, but rather about the power of every decision to influence the course of one’s soul.

Another example: My voice is more about emotion than almost anything else. My clues: I mark passages in my favorite books that evoke that surprising change in the rhythm of your heart – not a change due to suspense, but rather due to an emotional discovery. Examples: J.R. Ward’s powerful portrayal of grief in Lover Awakened or Gemma’s discovery of the roots of why women were so long oppressed in Libba Bray’s novel A Great and Terrible Beauty. Another clue: The way a song I haven’t heard in years will change the rhythm of my heart and the way the memory of why it does so slides in afterward. My first concern when I write my own stories is not with a believable romance or compelling suspense. Rather, it’s with the emotional journey and whether I can apply some deeper understanding through it.

Of course, none of this helps me know what to write or where I fit as a writer. It does, however, remind me that sometimes a box is too small or too confined. A Florida fall doesn’t fit in the autumn box. It’s something other, and yet it’s wonderful and awe-inspiring.

Maybe I just have to be content that I don’t fit in a box.

If it’s good enough for a Florida fall, it’s good enough for me.

Macy