“What we really want to do is what we are really meant to do. When we do what we’re meant to do, money comes to us, doors open […] we feel useful and the work we do feels like play to us.”
— Julia Cameron
There’s a moment every September when the air changes. The light shifts and slants, the nights smell faintly of woodsmoke, and my sandals look out of place by the door. The season turns quietly at first, but in my head, it’s a drumbeat: deadlines are coming.
For writers and creatives, fall is both a gift and a gauntlet. The chaos of summer schedules—vacations, long weekends, unexpected afternoons lost to iced tea on the porch—gives way to something sharper. The calendar fills again. Work demands our focus. And if you’re like me, the temptation is to sprint into the season with a full to-do list, eager to make up for what feels like lost time. Especially when a pumpkin spice latte is my celebration of choice after I achieve my daily goals.
But here’s the thing: summer wasn’t lost time. Those lazy hours staring at the ocean, the evenings spent chasing fireflies, the books read purely for pleasure were all fuel. They were the quiet storing-up of images, sensations, stories, and connections that will spill out onto the page in ways you might not even notice until much later.
As fall deadlines approach, I’m trying to treat them differently this year. Instead of slipping into the old “hustle or bust” rhythm, I’m making a point to plan my work the way I plan my walks in the crisp October air, with intention, curiosity, and space for detours. My word counts and edits are important, but so are the hours I spend watching leaves drift past the window, letting my next scene write itself in the background of my mind.
The best creative works rarely come from white-knuckle productivity. It comes from that steady, sustainable pace where the mind has time to breathe, even as the calendar pushes us forward. Fall will always be a season of deadlines, but maybe it can also be a season of deliberate creativity where the shift in the air reminds us not just to work harder, but to work better. To work more intentionally.
So this week, in anticipation of summer’s end, take an hour to step away from your desk. Walk outside, breathe in the new season, and notice the colors, scents, and small changes around you. Then, when you return to your work, let one of those details slip into your writing. It’s a reminder that even in the midst of deadlines, the world is still offering you stories.
