Mist on the Meadow

Happy Friday. Just had to post these pictures that I took this morning. With the new book "resting," I'm thinking ahead to cover shots. Granted, the story takes place in the winter, and I will most likely take winter pictures, but the mist this morning was perfect, so I just had to . . .

What do YOU imagine walking out of the mist?

Inspiration - Buildings

Do you ever look at a place and begin to imagine things about it? Hear a song and try to figure out what happened to the artist when they wrote it? (Clearly Taylor Swift and Adele let you know what happened!) Visit somewhere and see beyond the landscape? And then I have this mind that wires it all together. I see a creepy house and I hear the theme music from CBS Mystery Theater, or Night Gallery (giving away my age on these, I suppose). I see a landscape and I imagine pixies swirling around hoodoos. These things pop out uninvited, when you're least expecting them. Today's blog post centers around "places" that inspire, and more specifically, Living Canvas.

I got married in a B&B, and we spent a lot of time visiting them (guess where that part of Living Canvas came from?). When I walked up to The Hillcrest Inn, I knew that was "The Place." There was an ambience around it that drew me in. When I was writing Living Canvas, I didn't originally know Audrey wanted to run a B&B, but it started to make sense as the story unfolded and I remembered the way I felt the first time I saw Hillcrest.

Then, as I was driving home from work one day, I passed a house that sparked my imagination. THAT was going to be Castle Valley Inn in the book. The only problem was that I wanted the wraparound porch. The "castle" house would look wrong with a wraparound porch.  So I started an internet search for wraparound porches, and that's when I landed on The Mandolin Inn.

Visuals. That gets the brain started. Can you picture yourself sitting on the porch at Hillcrest? Imagine what the inside of that other house must look like? And I can tell you what the inside of Mandolin Inn looks like. I look at these places and think, "Wow, what a beautiful place." That evolves into, "I wonder what it would be like to live there." Which follows on with my personal catalog of haunted house movies and stories and "wouldn't that be a great backdrop for a story?"

So I "glom" all this stuff together, add in a secret room and an unsolved mystery (wherever the imagination takes you). Now you get an idea of how my mind works. All of these places are just a piece of Castle Valley Inn, along with other more "homey" touches from much less "visible" places. My own personal knowledge stores.

The only thing left is to add characters, throw them into "a situation." Decide what their goals are, how they plan to accomplish them, what's important to them and what stands in their way. To me, this is everyday daydreaming, but when other people ask me about it and I tell them, they are dumbfounded. Not everybody is wired the same way. Looking at a house for some people never gets past, "wow, that place is beautiful." Or it manifests itself more as "I wish I could own a place like that some day." For some people, it's about how to decorate it. Me and my imagination, we move right in and invite you over for tea.

Next week is the travelogue. Places that inspire me.

Audiobooks

Well, I've finished my first draft of "Quiet." And the current decision is that the title will be Mist on the Meadow. What a huge sense of accomplishment, not only to finish the draft, but to finish it in the time frame I'd set and in excess of the minimum word limit I had set for it. Both plusses. So what now? I am continuing to run it through my critique group, whose members are adept at pointing out every time I use the word "that" instead of "who," one of my many stumbling blocks. This also provides me the opportunity to step away from it and let it "set" (like Jell-O). Time away often helps to give a clearer perspective.  These are the times I go to previous works that are sitting on the shelf (Epitaph comes to mind) to determine if they are keepers or crap (pardon my French). It also gives me time to pursue other thoughts and ideas, one of which is audioboooks.

When I took a finished copy of Living Canvas to Amy in Iowa, she mentioned that she often buys audiobooks these days. We had a brief discussion about the different media books in which you can obtain books (she prefers a printed book in her hands to an ebook, fwiw). Interestingly, I read an article the other day that ebooks are now outpacing printed books. I also just bought a book to celebrate "the end" and bought a printed copy. My husband, when it arrived, asked why I hadn't gotten it as an ebook. The answer? It was the same price either way, and it was an easy read (I devoured the thing in a manner of hours - it was Goodnight, Tweetheart, in case you're wondering).  I like the convenience of my e-readers - a stack of stories in the palm of my hand - although I do like still like the feel of holding a printed book in my hand. But I digress. 

My conversation with Amy got me to wondering how many people listen to audiobooks. I mentioned it to my mother, and she said that she enjoys an audiobook from time to time, especially now when it's harder for her to read. And then there are the commuters . . . So I'm thinking about putting together an audio version of Living Canvas during my "recovery period." This is the period of time when I try to reaquaint myself with the industry and all the changes (which are happenening faster these days). New options, new avenues, not to mention new story ideas. What do you think about audiobooks? Thumbs up? Thumbs down?  Meh?

Field of Dreams

This past weekend DH and I went off to Iowa ("Is this heaven? No, it's Iowa.") for a family reunion. Why Iowa? Well, it's kinda in the middle for most of the people making the journey. An hour for some, eight hours for others. I have to say, I'm glad my sister takes the time to organize these things so that we don't have to wait for funerals to get together. The great part about family reunions is you have a chance to catch up with family that you haven't seen for a while. The bad part is that sometimes even a weekend isn't long enough. There are still people you don't quite make the rounds to, some who can only stay for the day, some for only a couple of hours. But on to the activities portion of this post . . .

So what do you do in Iowa? (no offense to the natives - keep in mind that many of us come from larger metropolitan areas, like Chicago or Minneapolis, or even Madison). Well who doesn't like the movie, Field of Dreams? (That's my husband raising his hand.) For those of you who haven't seen the movie or don't like baseball, the Field of Dreams is a baseball diamond in the middle of a cornfield down an unpaved road (well, you could take the paved road). That's what my husband saw. To those of us who were touched by the movie or have {ahem} overactive imaginations, it's poignant and a place where dreams become reality and family rises above adversity. Yes, I took a picture of the cornfield (that would be my sister playing the part of a ghost). The man who owns the farm was telling us that while they were filming, they were in drought, a lot like they are this year, and they were worried that James Earl Jones wouldn't disappear into the corn (it wouldn't grow tall enough) - he's a big man, after all! If you've seen the movie, you know that they did manage to make it grow.

We also took a ride on a Mississippi riverboat, complete with two paddlewheels. When in Rome . . . and the views are beautiful. There's a Mississippi river museum, and we also rode the Fenelon Street Elevator (a gondola that transports you up a steep bluff between two streets). And we saw an eagle flying over the lock and dam on the river while we walked through Eagle Point Park.

This would also be a good place to give a shout out to Amy at the Mandolin Inn. I interviewed Amy while I was writing Living Canvas for tips on running a B&B. The Mandolin Inn is located in Dubuque and is one of the loveliest B&B's I've ever visited. Castle Valley Inn (which is the inn in the book) takes some of its features from this inn, along with The Hillcrest Inn in Burlington, Wisconsin (shout out to Gayle and Mike), which was the original inspiration. Neither of these places have a secret room, to my knowledge, so please don't go looking for . . . NO, I'm not going to spoil the ending! Suffice it to say I've taken a considerable amount of artistic license in creating Castle Valley Inn, but I would highly recommend both of these real-life inns if you're looking for a fabulous place to stay.

The Mist over the Moors

I don't suppose we think of them as moors in the United States - here comes your definition of the day: a tract of open, peaty, wasteland, often overgrown with heath, common in high latitudes and altitudes where drainage is poor; heath. That being said, I don't suppose what I'm seeing can be defined as a moor. Marsh? Bog? Meadow! Semantics, I say.

This is my what the view from the train was like riding into the big city this morning. (P.S., thanks, Kurt) There's something magical about the mist, and it has been like this frequently over the past two weeks. Some areas are very dense, others already beginning to burn off. When you look into the mist, don't you imagine all kinds of things that might suddenly walk into view? (or maybe it's just me with that overactive imagination again). The playful part of me wants to photoshop all kinds of different images, from a dragon, to a highlander, to a knight in armor, to a couple hand in hand. The zombie apocalypse! The possibilities could go on and on. Secrets, shrouded in the humidity rising above the rain-soaked land. A peaceful way to start a day, wouldn't you say?

What would you photoshop coming out of the mist?

Soundtracks

One of the things I like about summer is that more people are outside. Today, I listened to a street musician on my way into/carrying through the window of my office. He has a speaker that he pipes a symphony through, and he plays along on his trumpet. I love music. All kinds. And listening to a symphony on my way into the office sets right a rough start to the day (left the house late, almost forgot my coffee so had to go back, hit every red light on my way to the train, made the train just in time). Street musicians, now playing on a street corner near you. Only in the summer. Sometimes, the bucket boys play on the bridge (they use overturned buckets as drums).

I often write to music, depending on my concentration level. If the concentration is there, it doesn't matter what's playing in the background. If the concentration is sketchy, I stick with instrumental. If the concentration is flighty, the music must be turned off. And did I mention eclectic tastes? I like everything from Scorpions to James Taylor to Handel (and just about everything in between). Over the weekend, I was sending an email to a friend and she asked what song I was listening to. (Quick - what are you listening to right now?) Timing is everything. The answer of the day: Marlene Dietrich singing Lili Marlene (in German). Yes, some of the song choices are "out there." Quiet coincidentally contains characters with German heritage, so even though the music choice wasn't conscious, it was appropriate for the current work in progress.

Music is often a soundtrack for our lives. I saw a movie a few weeks ago (Little Black Book, in which the main character grew up listening to Carly Simon, another of my personal favorites). The story was a little off for me, but the music resonated. The character's mother was a Carly fan, passing that on to her daughter, making Carly's music the soundtrack to both of their lives. Of course, at the end of the movie, Carly made a cameo appearance.

Is there someone that could write the soundtrack to your life? Quick! What song are you listening to right now? (Or, what was the last song you listened to?)

A Day in the Life . . .

Best laid plans often go awry, or maybe distractions make it easier to procrastinate?

My son came home for the weekend. I knew he was coming, although I wasn't sure which day. So went to bed Friday night, and I guess my "Mom Radar" is rusty from not having the kids home anymore. An hour and a half after I went to bed, he came home. Quietly. While I was asleep. And I didn't hear him. I have bat ears. Or at least I used to. My kids couldn't sneak in because I wake up at every little noise. Or used to. I woke up Saturday morning and saw his bedroom door closed. Imagine that! Someone broke into my house and all they did was close his bedroom door. It was almost like one of those Folgers commercials. Except nobody was making coffee. I spent some time with him on Saturday, catching up, crossing paths while I did my chores and he ran his errands.

He had plans on Sunday, so he wasn't around much. That gave me most of the day to fix the holes in "Quiet," although instead I found myself making trailers for Living Canvas. Procrastination, you know. I have to write suspense scenes in "Quiet," actually put my characters in mortal peril, and that is still difficult to do. In spite of that, I managed to edit a major portion of the work (and that counts!).

As of Monday morning, my son has returned to his developing life. Back to college, and work until college starts. No more distractions for me (other than the everyday). Back to putting my characters in mortal danger without a net (although it's still up to me to give them a way out).

I make a lousy bad guy. The police keep getting there too quickly (I keep wanting to save my "friends" from the evils of the story). That being said, "Quiet" is darn close to done!