Changing Seasons

It's late summer here in the American Midwest. The air has a bit of a different smell to it in the morning, the bugs sound different than when I left for Germany, and there's a subtle darkening in the color of leaves on the trees. School supplies are everywhere in the supermarket and tailgating supplies are making their appearances. Soon it will be fall, the days will get colder and shorter, and it'll be time to break out my hoodies and my apple crisp recipe card.

When I was younger, I used to dislike the changing seasons, especially as summer transitioned to fall. Now I enjoy and appreciate the change in life it brings. (It may also have something to do with the fact that I no longer have high school in the fall. High school and I weren't the best of friends.)

 As I've grown older, I've also started to realize that life has its seasons, just as the year does.

Full confession: I didn't write anything this summer. I haven't even opened a word document to do some editing.

I used to rely on the summer to do the bulk of my editing and writing. It finally clicked for me that I can no longer do that; career jobs don't exactly give you two months out of the year with nothing to do. (Hello, Captain Obvious.) I'll have to figure out how to fit in writing and editing around my already busy schedule.

At first, I was angry about this change. You mean I can't just pound out 5k words a day for three months and take the other nine months off entirely?

Then came a wave of self-doubt. Is it worth it to be writing? Is this something to carry into my next season of life? Should I make time for it? I spent some time ruminating on it and decided that, yes, this is something I want to do.

There's too much I want to write about and dream about to not write.

I used to think that I would pay for my college by writing a great self-published book. That seems silly now. Indeed, the idea of just making something worthy of being published (self-pubbed or otherwise) seems daunting. It's a responsibility. Something to do right or not at all, because it would bear my name on it.

But that doesn't mean that things don't need to be written, because they do. It's how I process the world; I see things through stories, through characters on a page.

I think I still have a lot of growing to do; in fact, I hope I do. It'd be rather sad if I never matured past my young adult self. But I think that it's time I accepted that I'm moving into a different season of life. One where writing is less about influencing people and more about putting out a kernel of truth, even if it just sits on my hard drive and only affects me. One where writing isn't something to pass the time when bored, but something essential to who I am.

It's time to appreciate where I've been, but also to embrace where I'm going. And if that seasonal change brings hoodie
weather, I'm all for it.

How have your thoughts on writing changed as you've grown older?

If you're curious about what I've been up to lately, you can check out my updated biography under the "About Me" tab.