It’s a lot of years later and the habit has stuck.
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When I checked the flower beds this morning, the dirt was black and still
damp from the rain we had a few days ago. With the colder weather, the
carnations have come back to life and have a few brightly colored spicy scented
blooms. Beyond, the orange trees are covered with two kinds of
fruit. There are a few of the very ripe oranges left that are so sweet and
juicy just waiting to be eaten. The rest are the new crop,
more green than pale orange and hard to the touch.
I frequently go walking in the Santa Monica mountains and have set scenes
in my books up there. It affects the way I experience the walk. I
look and smell and feel everything as if I’m going to write about it. How
to find the right words to describe the sandy colored rocky outcroppings.
Or the way the air smells of wild sage and a bushy tree whose shiny green leaves
have a pungent fragrance . Or the way a red tailed hawk, almost eye level
with me, rides the wind. Or the way the search helicopter flew along the
side of the mountains looking for someone and later landed not far away from me,
sending out a rush of turbulent air and rocks.
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I spend time walking along the beach and note how it goes from white silky
sand to piles of jagged rocks with danger signs posted nearby. As the
waves roll in, I look at the color of the water which is really sea foam green
like the crayon.
When it comes to the yarn part, I focus on the way crochet and knitting
make me feel. How my hook moving through some yarn takes me to a calm
place and I am unbothered by the bumps and jiggles of the plane I’m on as
it goes through choppy air.
It’s not just scenery and stitches that I pay close attention to.
People, too. I’ll let you in on a secret. I use a lot of the people
from my gym as characters. While the rest of the class is zoned out doing
aerobics, I’m watching the women in the mirror. I look for what is
distinctive about them and then make up my own backstory. One woman comes
to mind. There was something about her placid expression and choice of
exercise clothes that struck me. Most of the other women wear some kind of
stretchy stuff, but she had on regular long shorts, a well worn tee shirt and
instead of the high tech sports shoes most of the group had, she wore old white
Keds. I imagined her as one of those salt of the earth sort of
people. The kind who’d helped out at PTA bake sales and chaperoned Girl
Scout trips. Her hair had some gray streaks and my version of her had her
kids grown. But what if her husband had left her and was marrying someone
else? What would that feel like from the inside. And suppose her kids are
torn between going to the wedding and siding with her.. It went on from
there. The funny part is, I have no idea if any of it could be true or even what
her name is. And I’ll never find out because she stopped coming to the
gym, but she has become a continuing character in my books.
Thanks to writing nothing just goes by me unnoticed. The color of the
sky when there is a forest fire, the way moon looks so big when it is close to
the horizon, the fragrance and taste of tea with rose petals mixed in, and on
and on. You could say I that I truly do stop and smell the roses and then
stick it in a book..
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Being a knitter and crocheter myself, I love both of her series!! Yarn to Go was such a great read. Can't wait till the next one is out!!!
ReplyDeleteMe, too, Shelley! Thanks for dropping by!
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