Alison Larkin

The truth is I really love my work. I know some people like to take a break from work. Not me. What’s more interesting that writing a novel you feel compelled to write? Or narrating something that engages your soul? ZIp.

Of course there is the exhaustion thing.

“Why don’t you take a break?” a friend says. “Come out with us on Saturday. It’ll be fun.”

No it won’t. I’d be itching to get back to the audiobook I’m narrating for Tantor.

Or writing up the scene I’ve been thinking about putting into my new novel for over a week. Thing is, I know Mia has to experience intense chemistry and connection with someone the moment they meet, question is where do they meet? On the plane? By the bookstand at the airport? Taking their shoes off before going through security?

And what is she going to do? Let him know how she feels? Or feign indifference, as she usually does.

I’ve my own novel to finish, two books to narrate and a screenplay of The English American to complete. I’ve a lot on my plate.

I can do all of it if I get up at 4.30 and ignore the laundry and the cooking.

And when I’m so tired I can’t see, perhaps then I’ll consider taking a trip to the ocean. As long as I can bring my laptop.

I’m working achingly hard this month – narrating the 200th Anniversary audio edition of Pride and Prejudice – and writing the second draft of my new book.

And even though I don’t have time to hike up Monument Mountain or walk with a friend, as I put myself through the emotional roller coaster writing a novel seems to send me on, this time I’m surrounded by mountains and mist and burnished leaves.

I have to leave the house for most of the day because Tim the builder and his team of bangers are hard at work on the porch – on which I plan spending a great deal of time once it’s finished. (The delay, apparently, has to do with the building inspector taking his sweet time to drive half a minute up the hill to give Tim the thumbs up on the electrical sockets.)

As I head down the hill to find a quiet place to write before the kids come home and require feeding – which they seem to expect EVERY SINGLE DAY – I get to see nature at it’s most majestic.

It’s only a few minutes walk and I am trying to figure out a plot point in my book – but the leaves are swirling at my feet as I do so and they are red and burnished brown and whoa! Feel the wind!

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Writing in New England in the Fall