Sunday, June 12, 2011


I'm still plodding through rewrites of Living Canvas and fussing about the title.  The good part is that it feels WONDERFUL to be writing again after making half-hearted attempts for several months.  It may be rewrites, but I'm re-energized by the new direction of the story.

One of the things that I've been working on is describing the concept of "Home."  What does Home mean to you?  My main character, Audrey, is in her 20's, and because her parents had her when they were older, they're already deceased.  This leaves Audrey more or less on her own with no siblings.  It creates a very independent person, by necessity, but it also makes a sense of home a bit different.  What does home feel like?  She has a very close friend, someone who is more like a sister, but that friend is moving on with her life and Audrey is feeling left behind.  She's losing her sense of home, even though she's built a nice life for herself - alone.  This raises an interesting question, however. 

I grew up in a close family.  We continue to be close and I'm blessed that my parents are still alive.  For most of my life, we all went "home" for Christmas, or other holidays, or birthdays, or whathaveyou.  Having a character who is orphaned as an adult, it makes you appreciate these things a little more, and on behalf of the character, I wonder who celebrates her birthday with her?  What does she do for the holidays?  As an author, I have bestowed her with shirt tail relatives and, again, a very close friend that is more than a sister to her.  That helps, but isn't there still a sense of loss for all those things we take for granted on a regular day?  It's a concept I'm still struggling with a little bit.

So I'm asking for other viewpoints.  How do you define "home?"  If I use your definition in the story, I'll send an autographed copy of The Treasure of St. Paul

1 comment:

  1. Wow, you really got me thinking. Home for me now is much better than it was when I was younger. I grew up in an acoholic family, an only child. My father was never around, he has passed on. I'm close with my mother, now, but she lives several hours away, so I don't see her that often. So the things I do now at home are the things I wanted when I was growing up. We sit at the table every night for dinner, we go places and stick together as a family. I remember how we use to go camping. As soon as we arrived, the mothers' would go one way, the fathers' would go one way and the kids would run off and play. By the time Sunday arrived and we were heading home, my mother was so livid because we didn't spend any time together. Home now for me is a happy place that I can't wait to come home too.