Why Writers Love October (Even When Our Deadlines Haunt Us)

Writers love to pretend October is calm—
all flickering candles, pumpkin spice, and cozy productivity under amber light.

But let’s be honest.
October isn’t calm.
It’s beautiful chaos wrapped in a flannel scarf.



The Season of Pumpkin-Spiced Panic

That first crisp breeze hits, and every writer thinks,
“This is the month I finally finish my draft.”

Two weeks later, we’re surrounded by fall-scented candles, half-empty caramel coffee mugs, and plot holes that whisper like haunted leaves.

It’s the same energy as carving a pumpkin and realizing halfway through that you’ve made a mess you now have to justify artistically.

If the manuscript’s on fire, at least it’s candle-scented.


The Haunted Calendar

Every October, my planner starts looking like a séance.
Sticky notes everywhere. Margins full of desperate deadlines.

The ghosts of abandoned projects rise from their folders, demanding attention like exes who “just want to talk.”

I light a cinnamon candle, top off my coffee with pumpkin spice creamer, and mutter,
“Fine, haunt me—but make it productive.”


The Magic of Creative Decay

Maybe that’s why October feels so perfect for writing—it’s a month built on transformation.
Leaves fall, stories shed their old versions, and what’s left behind might actually be something worth keeping.

Editing in October feels like composting creativity.
You toss in dead dialogue and questionable plot decisions, and somehow—through time, pressure, and caffeine—it all becomes fertile again.


Deadline Spirits and Other Frequent Visitors

Some people hear ghosts in old houses.
Writers hear them in their inbox.

Every revision request feels like a whisper from the beyond saying, *“You missed a comma.”*

But there’s comfort in that haunting, too.
Deadlines remind us that something in this half-finished draft still wants to live.


Rituals of Survival

My October routine isn’t mystical, but it’s sacred.
I start the morning with caramel coffee and the promise I’ll “just edit one chapter.”
(Spoiler: it’s never just one.)

Spotify hums with instrumental fantasy tracks, and when the words stall, I take the dog for a walk around the park.
The trees are gold, the air smells like woodsmoke, and for a moment, even my deadlines feel poetic.

Some days I write at my desk, other days I camp out on my bed under a blanket—creative flexibility, not procrastination.


Why We Keep Coming Back

We love October because it reminds us why we do this at all.
It’s messy, unpredictable, and alive.

The same way the world shifts colors, our stories do too—burning bright, fading, and returning in new form.

October is when writing becomes what it’s meant to be:
A little haunting.
A little hopeful.
And absolutely impossible to quit.


Join the Conversation

What haunts your deadlines this October?
Tell me in the comments—I’ll be the one editing with coffee in one hand and a candle burning in the other, pretending this is all part of the plan.