October is perhaps my favouritest month of all the months, mostly because of Halloween related preparations and general Autumnal coziness. However, this year I mustered my best intentions (and a shit-load of bat decorations) and then failed to do anything festive. My white face paint remains unopened on my dresser, my sugar skull candy dishes empty. True, there are vinyl bat decorations all over the house (including the fridge doors and mantle) but that's always true, I suppose, because my house is a bat cave.
This month I sold my soul to writing and have finished more things cumulatively in the last 4 weeks than I have in the past decade of writing. It's like a disease. Finish one thing, get an itch and pretty soon I've finished another… and another… and another.
Our neighbours (both sides of their duplex) set up an actual graveyard out front with life-sized mannequins and coffins and hands jumping out from the ground, treasure chests that open and close with bones inside, lights everywhere, an undead wedding party… I loved it. I wish they'd leave it up all year. But it brought children in droves. Droves, I tell you.
We had 50+ trick-or-treaters in the first half hour and I was cleaned out of $20 worth of candy about ten minutes after that. We gave out pretzels and plant seeds and finally turned off the lights. Up until then I was crouched at the card table, plunking away trying to meet a submission deadline, shrieking like a banshee every 2 seconds when the doorbell chimed, grumbling along to TIm Burton films and chucking taffy angrily at anyone close enough to the door to hand it to the children. I was a Halloween Grinch.
Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I was just less participatory than previous years. Hopefully I will have some publishing credits to show for it. *batwings crossed*
Anyway, as I say every year,