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That’s not a comment on any weird weather, more a comment on my weird state of mind as a writer.
All the First Aid for Fairies books are set at particularly ‘magical’ times of year: midwinter, midsummer, autumn equinox and spring equinox. But I never seem to WRITE them at the appropriate time of year.
It’s Autumn Equinox time (half way between midsummer and midwinter, which is when Storm Singing is set), and yet I’m writing First Aid Four, which is meant to be set at the Spring Equinox.
This poses a few basic research problems, like when I go on location I have to imagine what the landscape will look like with more flowers, or fewer leaves, or different heights of grass.
But it also makes me very confused. I’ve spent a lot of this week living on the 20th of March, because counting back, that’s when the fabled beasts’ quest will have to start in order to end on the Spring Equinox. Which means when I come out of the house after writing for a day and the leaves are turning brown, I get a bit of a shock. In my head, it’s springtime; but outside my head, it’s autumn. And I was trying to explain something about flowers to one of my daughters when we were out for a walk, and I realised that I was talking complete nonsense, because I was talking about spring, and shoots, and daffodils. In September.
So, living in stories can make you a bit confused. But it also means I’m smelling flowers when everyone else is shivering in autumn gales!
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It could be spring in the Highlands today. The sun is shining for a change and the birds are singing. I like to grab every opportunity to enjoy the good days; especially with winter looming. I had a long walk in Tomfat woods with Cuillin the greyhound early this morning and it was beautiful.
I once went to phone one of my characters, before remembering that he is fictional and I am (as far as I know) not!
I often find the re-assertion of reality disorienting when I’ve been particularly engrossed in a book. I wonder if that means I’m a basketcase? Or is reality-dysphoria quite normal in us creative types?
Ok. So I went and looked up dysphoria, so it’s nice to be pushed towards the dictionary by a blog comment. And yes, I think forgetting they aren’t real is part of the deal. Anyway, reality isn’t always all that great compared to fiction. I suspect everyone lives in their own wee worlds. Writers just feel compelled to share ours! Big Q – who did you want to phone, and why?