Falling Leaves
Reds and golds drifting in the wind
Hey! What is the defining characteristic of autumn to you?
For me, of the countless stereotypes and clichés that make up the pumpkin spice flavored months of the year, a few themes are obvious.
Shifting from overbearing heat to calming cool winds
Shorter days and longer nights
Sifting through crops and welcoming harvest holidays
More than these measures found on or near our calendars, I want to bring up an intuitive transition that hits us with emotions that defy descriptions.
The way the scent of the season dances on the air as a flavor of happiness.
To me, there’s an element of nostalgia in it — maybe a melancholy remembrance of how we need to survive the coming winter.
At least in the northern hemisphere.
The falling leaves
Drift by the window
The autumn leaves
Of red and gold
There is more to autumn though.
The most superficial change that comes with flipping the calendar page to October is the kitsch that comes with Halloween.
In a misguided attempt at marketing, I thus wanted to jump on the bandwagon of promoting horror and everything horror adjacent.
The only problem is I don’t really write scary stories.
So, in my twisted logic, I thought Revification could be seen as strange enough to match the spookiness of the season.
Experiencing Shahin’s descent into madness or another world is certainly unsettling — I think calling the book a psychological thriller is fair enough.
As you read through the pages, memories and nightmares melt and meld, one into the other, creating an eerie atmosphere where every moment has us asking one question:
Are you listening to me?
The way Shahin’s answer is a constant lie hints at the real battle happening between the protagonist and the antagonist. The surreal way in which the action unfolds, however, could almost certainly have the reader qualifying Kabosha as an eldritch beast.
That is to say, the narrative itself leaves both the characters and the readers off balance. The way every word is manipulated into an altered reality matches the overall uncomfortable setting and unsettling feeling.
I think that’s fair play for a gimmick that works during the iconic month of October!
However, after recording another one of my silly little promotional videos, I was reminded that there is more to autumn than spooky ghosts and scary skeletons.
As we prepare to endure the coldest months of the year, this is also a time of remembrance. A reminder of our mortality and a cosmic check on how prepared we humans are to survive inhospitable climates.
Whimsical Rhean
I’ll openly admit, I never really thought about what season Rhean — either as a book or a character — would represent, but I do agree with Kimberley that she feels very much like an autumn.
The way in which her story travels across both time and space evokes the feeling of changing seasons and a drifting breeze.
Her existence is one between worlds.
She has one foot on a path guided by duty and destiny.
The other is hesitant to make a choice, pushing her to wander and wonder.
Her long life and reclusive nature have made her attempt to find peace in the loneliness that comes with being an immortal among mortals. She is resolved to do things on her own terms, unbound by the limits of human lifespans and the consequences of her actions.
Even on the most basic level, Rhean and her sword are heavily themed around the color red.
My original intention was more to play with the idea and expectation of “evil” and how our preconceived notions can be re-contextualized into a heroic motif.
But I’m willing to see that choice of a specific palette as a reflection of autumn.
I rather enjoy how the theme of change and acceptance play with the statuesque morals and resolve of Rhean.
Throughout the book, we learn about a character who has deeply intense emotions, but she hides them behind an unmoving wall of stoicism. Rhean’s journey, in many ways, is one of accepting her flaws and her scars as something that makes her a better person.
She needs to accept change as an integral part of who she is.
I think Kimberley put it best when she wrote in her review:
Rhean is a tragic character who claims she doesn't know how to love, and she often feels lonely. But she does love, and she is loved, even though she doesn't recognise it herself.
In Rhean, that theme of love is embodied by the spirit of change, the same emotion often found in autumn.
And also connected to the way I think of my own writing.
Although I often find myself in unquestionably dark corners, I don’t like to dwell on an ending that is full of doubt.
For me, difficult ideas and unanswered questions don't mean an existence devoid of hope.
In all my stories, I provide room for a cathartic ending.
Call it love or tamed blood, there is always a flower waiting to be found.
In The Breeze
Moments pass by like birds in the sky. One side longer than the other, even geese need a guide.
I hadn’t thought about how they fly in over a decade. Migration south for the winter. You lose touch with otherwise normal aspects of nature when they no longer concern you.
I know I did.
Far enough south to feel nothing but warmth all year round. You get used to a monotony with every month feeling like slight variations of the last. Tropical paradises and their sloppy calendars mean seasons are missed between the heights of summer and the depths of fall.
At least, it caught my attention. The way people began adapting their wardrobe to the colder weather.
They were just like the birds flying home.
Well, who’s to say which was really their home. Maybe they thought their vacation down south was where they were from.
Regardless, it was in that colder air that I first saw her.
Well, it wasn’t the first time I’d seen her, but it was the first time I realized I loved her. She stood at the entrance to our school, hair brushing across her face in the autumn breeze.
We can be quick to judge ourselves — the way we jump into a relationship. Some may think there needs to be a long time where the boundaries of friendship and courtship are subtle and shared. But I think the duration of any dream is less calculated and more the result of happenstance circumstance.
My opinion instantly changed in that moment.
She was wearing a new sweater, leggings, and boots to keep warm. She was trying not to look so concerned as her eyes widened, looking out in every direction to see where I was.
“Hey!” I shouted from across a patch of grass. I watched her shift from a neutral expression to one of pure joy. When I saw her face lit up, I relaxed into a world where I could be who I really was. “Are you ready?”
I grabbed her hand as I approached and she blushed, red to match the falling leaves on the ground around us.
“Aren’t you cold?” She looked over my outfit and smiled with a light laugh.
“These are the warmest clothes I have!” I countered, but it was a silly thing to say. We were only just starting to feel the cold and I was already at the limits of my attire.
“You need to get a good jacket.” She pulled on my arm and we inched closer together. I stumbled over my thoughts as I felt an embarrassing rush pass through my entire body. This girl cared for me more than I cared for myself.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine!” I tried to play it cool in that way young boys in love do. She answered by snuggling up to me. Whether it was an excuse to be close or an honest attempt to keep me warm didn’t matter. I was enamored by the attention and the way we felt together.
“Are you cold?” I asked as I moved my arms around her back. I knew she felt more comfortable there — safe and free to be herself — I did too. The kind of feeling most people struggle to ever approach was right there at our side. “We can stop by the store later. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Don’t be silly!” She looked up at me with nothing but warmth in her eyes. I thought she would push me away with a quick jab, but she pulled me closer and hugged me tighter. “I’m worried about you! You don’t need to worry about me!”
“I’m fine. I plan on buying a winter jacket soon, don’t worry." I reassured her and moved my hand to meet hers. She answered with a nod and we found that comfortable position where our fingers clasped together.
“It’s going to get much colder so you really shouldn’t wait!” She smiled at me and pulled me toward the entrance of our school. Our date would soon officially begin, but the ceremony mattered little to the emotions we already shared.
“I know. I’m just not used to the changing seasons is all.” I answered in an honest excuse that was never very convincing.
“The movie’s starting soon, we can get you a coat after!” She rolled her eyes as we moved closer to the bus stop. There was some film I barely remember playing in the local theaters.
I’d struggle to say if we enjoyed it or not, but any opinions on taste were unimportant to the time we spent with each other.
We were already in love.
And we would spend the rest of our lives never doubting that decision.
Drifting Window
I was feeling very defeated last week.
Not much has actually changed in terms of pragmatics, but I have a better attitude for now.
Sales and prospects remain ever elusive, but I’m hopeful for something better just past the horizon.
Some of you asked or otherwise expressed a desire to help.
And more than buying copies of my books, the easiest way to aid me in forging my dream is to publicly share your thoughts about my writing.
Good or bad, a quick post on Facebook or a selfie showing my name proudly displayed on the cover, anything you can do to introduce me to those around you helps me much more than you probably will ever know.
Otherwise, I just hope you enjoy my rambling.
Until next time.
—JMB