~*~*~*~*~
 |
| London Bridge. My companions told me all about it so that I visualized it well. |
When I write, my
mind sails away to another time and place. Tagging along with me are my
companions, ghosts from the past, ghosts in the present who seemed to have
lived during the era in which I write. They advise me, tell me what is
historically correct, or cry: “No, no. Listen to me.” I trust them and type their
visuals into the computer.
 | |||
| King Charles II Spy Master. Did I work with him? |
Then, with a
small tune of regret to my companions, I go to the historical texts to make
certain what they said is truly correct. Imagination can be a very strong tool.
I make an effort to delineate between it and the whispered word. Like automatic
writing, do I jot down images from my imagination or had I lived during that
time and remembered as I write the passage?
More often than
not, the detail I entered into the manuscript is correct, yet I don’t tell many
of this. Instead, a bibliographical list is added at the end of the story. This
is much more believable than “I remember when…”
As a result,
readers exclaim they feel they are there, walking the lanes when reading my
stories. They smell the not so nice odors. Their eyes sting from the coal smoke
and they trip over an uneven paving stone, the heels of their hands embed with
pebbles as they fall in the dirt.
Stories
transport one to another plane. More realistic to the time, the better the
visuals. That’s my goal as I write novels of the 17th century, or phantasmatical stories of other planets, or
spiritual adventures that take you to the unreal.
 |
| I became woozy riding in this. |
This is what
writing is all about, to transport one to another world, another time. My
ghosties do this with me.
~*~*~*~*~
Many thanks to Wikicommons, Public Domain for historical pictures.
