Wednesday, March 26, 2014

place

Last weekend I took a spin out to Hood River for some sensory research. Talked to some folks. Filled my tank up with material for further adventures of Brady and Connor.

It's magic to me, the way it always starts with place. I mean, plot's important. Characters, certainly. But when I consider the starting point for anything I've gone the distance with, it's clear that the germination that sticks must touch on my experience of the physical.

The smell of Daphne wind. The warmth of sun through a closed car window. The texture of early spring landscape, brittle, hopeful, the slightest pastel peeking out from bark-gray. Tractors backing up. Apple cider in cold storage. Crusty leaves in sodden berms.

It's composting fast - as though I added some enzyme to it. I feel a writing day coming on.

Where do you start? When do you stop?

6 comments:

  1. Love this post, Suzy!

    When I lived in Australia I'd get in my Subaru and drive through the mountains where my family lived. Something about the sunshine, serenity, the isolation and the fresh smell of the air and the trees up there that makes it easier to write about the senses again. :)

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    1. It's really amazing how that works, right? I grew up in many places, but I was a wanderer as a kid. All my ideas crystallized and connected to words when I walked. I feel bad for kids now, so many never get the opportunity for unbidden strolling.

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  2. "i feel a writing day coming on"

    i think it's already here...that was perfect, i could feel the air.

    mine starts w/ people/voice, and i always struggle with place...not knowing where to put them. my hometown? the place i long to live? somewhere i dream up with some generic name (that always ends up sounding too generic to use...) which now has me wondering if this is at all connected with my obsession with house hunters...

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    1. House hunters! A very worthy obsession.

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  3. Anonymous7:21 AM

    Place first for me, too, though I often fictionalize it. I need to know where a character comes from before I can start to imagine anything else about him.

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    1. You are such a Harriet the Spy, Averil. I see you with that little notebook.

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