Letters.

Missives from the writing life.

Volume 1, Issue 9
September 1, 2026

The seasons are changing, but Fall will not write this book for me.

By the time you read this, I’ll be in Fall Mode. I associate Fall Mode—which begins somewhere around the second week of school—with buckling down and tackling big projects. Fall Mode (usually) guarantees a solid block of time between 7:30 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. during which I am responsible only to and for myself. This version of me has all the motivation, focus, and time my summer self lacks.

Unfortunately, Fall Mode is an illusion.

My kid is 13. He needs minimal supervision and entertainment on summer days, and probably wants even less. Summer routines may be more freeform, but I could carve out plenty of work time for a big deadline, or even a big idea, if I needed to.

Still, I start dreaming about Fall Mode toward the end of every summer. Strolling back from the beach with my boogie board tucked under my arm in mid-August, I decided I’d finish my next novel manuscript this fall. My relationship with this book has been very much on-again, off-again, fraught by setbacks both within my control and not, but at the end of the day it’s a story that deserves to be told. I want to finish it. Or, at least, I want it to be finished.

Only when I returned home and paged through my calendar did I wonder how I’d fit all that work in. I already have a multi-day climbing trip scheduled for October. A friend in New York asked when I’d be back in the city. I want to keep submitting new nonfiction pitches every month. It’d also be nice to ship a new feature for Do The Thing, and I’d love to find side work that pays better than anything I’m doing currently.

This is what makes Fall Mode an illusion. My daily hands-on parenting time has changed between ages 3 and 13, but everything else has shifted in response. The school year doesn’t add any time to my day.

No matter how well-organized you are, how well you manage your calendar, there’s a ceiling to how much you can do without burning yourself out (or pissing off the people you live with). I’ve always understood how to budget money. As a teenager, I spent months saying no to weekend plans while I picked up extra shifts to save for a Spanish class trip to Peru. I kept enough money in the bank to revive my 18-year-old Toyota Camry on the few occasions it broke down. But I’ve never been good at keeping time in the bank. I spend it freely, trusting there will still be enough when I need to invest in something big. I assume Fall Mode will give me a boost, but that’s like planning for a tax refund before I’ve even filed my return.

The only way to gain time for any specific project is to plan for it. Choose it. Say no to enough other things to free up the necessary resources.

I’ve already put beach writing time on the calendar for September, October, and November. Next step is to buy train tickets so I’m committed. (I paused writing this paragraph to put that on my to-do list.) Fall Mode doesn’t have to be an illusion, but it does require intentional behavior change to become a reality. This fall I’m ready to make it happen.

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Just-for-fun share: fellow author and Maryland Writers Association member Deliah Lawrence invited me for an interview on her blog in August. We got into writing process, why I became an author, how anyone sells books in 2026, and some random fun facts. Click here to read!

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