Celia died in September, a few weeks after my birthday, the day before the first autumn leaves began changing their colors.

So goes the first line of my newest writing project. Usually at this point, I race to write as much as I can, frantically piecing the story as I go, drawing in characters who refuse to be left out, and so on. But this time around, things are going a little differently. I found myself reading several interviews with authors over the past months and all of them speak of the time it takes to bring a story together — sometimes even a year or so. That was really encouraging. I used to get overwhelmed and then discouraged when the plotline didn’t quickly emerge, and I felt somehow responsible for the death of characters I would have otherwise loved when I had no story to place them in. So this time, I’m treading more calmly. I have the characters, I have the main draws of events, and slowly, pieces are coming together.

In the immortal words of Billy Joel, “Vienna waits for you.”