I tell you- there is nothing like a vacation in the winter. Take it from me. After four months of total crap weather, a girl needs to get away before she withers into winter’s deep dark depression.
I always get a little stir crazy come February. Tis true that I’m ruled by Jupiter and like to roam about the country a bit, but there is something about knowing spring is right around the corner. I’m showing the impatience of my zodiac sign.
So to curb this impatience, I just feed it some spring like weather and hightail it to Phoenix (Arizona) for a week every February. In the winter, I can understand why my family feels the need to live in the desert. Cold to them is 60 degrees in the sunshine. Cold to me is… well, like living in the Arctic Circle where it never stops snowing and never shows the sunshine.
This year I resolved to do a bit of work while motoring around the busy streets of Phoenix and the surrounding suburbs. I already know my way about. I know which streets to take, which ones to avoid. What areas are popular and what are not. I know where the best places to eat are. I know the highways. But do I really know the “heart” of this city I’d like to write a series? No. Not really at all.
I love to people watch. I love to experience a city just by wandering around casually and stumbling onto everything day life. Listen to the sounds. Smell the atmosphere. There is something that’s inspiring about a city you know nothing about. So for a couple of days instead of playing the vacationer, I played the resident. I did nothing but what my normal routine would be back home. I got up. Early. Slipped my glasses on and went in search of coffee (which I had to make). Took my coffee to the shower (but did NOT drink it in the shower. Gimme some credit wenches.) Did my normal top secret bathroom routine, which includes many layers of war paint. Turned on the TV in search of the local news to scope out the traffic and on which roads. Jotted down notes on scenes I could possibly see. Motored out to the rental and took a drive. I had to experience traffic. City traffic. (Gotta tell you Hellion, I think we’ve got them beat.) And went back to the house. This is where my routine gets a little screwy because I wasn’t working. But I was thinking about what my heroine would be doing. That was fun. Can’t tell you though, top secret and all that jazz.
At night, I’d go for a run in the neighborhood. Since I was staying with my grandmother, it was safe to be on the street at 8pm. I took in the palm trees framed by the twinkling stars in the vast desert skyline. The way the mountains were framed in the distance and the streetlamps gave them an eerie glow. The way the cold mountain breeze rustled through the orange tress. The
smell of flowers blooming, fresh cut grass, dirty water rushing from lawns and into the street. There is something calming about the night here. Things are not rushed. It’s almost peaceful. Border line relaxing once the sun falls behind the mountain peaks. And then I knew, while running down a dark, quiet street with the streetlamp coming up on my right, the dry culvert running through the side street just ahead of me, that this was the right place to start my next series. The city is almost schizophrenic in its ability to completely make a 180 from sunrise to sunset. And that’s what makes a great city to write about. The ability to draw the reader in (even if you have to fudge a bit to get it quite right) it still has the outline to which you base every scene on.
So my question today: Have you ever traveled to check out a city you wanted to base your WIP from? Fictional or fact, it doesn’t matter. We all choose location for a reason, so what was your deciding factor? Readers, does it thrill you to read a book and know the city or does it do nothing for you?
I always get a little stir crazy come February. Tis true that I’m ruled by Jupiter and like to roam about the country a bit, but there is something about knowing spring is right around the corner. I’m showing the impatience of my zodiac sign.
So to curb this impatience, I just feed it some spring like weather and hightail it to Phoenix (Arizona) for a week every February. In the winter, I can understand why my family feels the need to live in the desert. Cold to them is 60 degrees in the sunshine. Cold to me is… well, like living in the Arctic Circle where it never stops snowing and never shows the sunshine.
This year I resolved to do a bit of work while motoring around the busy streets of Phoenix and the surrounding suburbs. I already know my way about. I know which streets to take, which ones to avoid. What areas are popular and what are not. I know where the best places to eat are. I know the highways. But do I really know the “heart” of this city I’d like to write a series? No. Not really at all.
I love to people watch. I love to experience a city just by wandering around casually and stumbling onto everything day life. Listen to the sounds. Smell the atmosphere. There is something that’s inspiring about a city you know nothing about. So for a couple of days instead of playing the vacationer, I played the resident. I did nothing but what my normal routine would be back home. I got up. Early. Slipped my glasses on and went in search of coffee (which I had to make). Took my coffee to the shower (but did NOT drink it in the shower. Gimme some credit wenches.) Did my normal top secret bathroom routine, which includes many layers of war paint. Turned on the TV in search of the local news to scope out the traffic and on which roads. Jotted down notes on scenes I could possibly see. Motored out to the rental and took a drive. I had to experience traffic. City traffic. (Gotta tell you Hellion, I think we’ve got them beat.) And went back to the house. This is where my routine gets a little screwy because I wasn’t working. But I was thinking about what my heroine would be doing. That was fun. Can’t tell you though, top secret and all that jazz.
At night, I’d go for a run in the neighborhood. Since I was staying with my grandmother, it was safe to be on the street at 8pm. I took in the palm trees framed by the twinkling stars in the vast desert skyline. The way the mountains were framed in the distance and the streetlamps gave them an eerie glow. The way the cold mountain breeze rustled through the orange tress. The
smell of flowers blooming, fresh cut grass, dirty water rushing from lawns and into the street. There is something calming about the night here. Things are not rushed. It’s almost peaceful. Border line relaxing once the sun falls behind the mountain peaks. And then I knew, while running down a dark, quiet street with the streetlamp coming up on my right, the dry culvert running through the side street just ahead of me, that this was the right place to start my next series. The city is almost schizophrenic in its ability to completely make a 180 from sunrise to sunset. And that’s what makes a great city to write about. The ability to draw the reader in (even if you have to fudge a bit to get it quite right) it still has the outline to which you base every scene on.So my question today: Have you ever traveled to check out a city you wanted to base your WIP from? Fictional or fact, it doesn’t matter. We all choose location for a reason, so what was your deciding factor? Readers, does it thrill you to read a book and know the city or does it do nothing for you?
