A truly solid writing day today…

I am grateful for days like this one, when there’s a cool breeze blowing in the back window while I write, where I can heard birds singing and the leaves of maples and oaks rustling.

Days like this feed the fiction, because the fictionalized town is a magical version of this town, and the sounds and smells and bits of things going on around me get worked into the story.

Just in tiny pieces. But I think those pieces matter.

I love this place where I live, and I’m so happy to be able to use it as a backdrop for the magic and the danger and the mystery of the stories I’m writing.

I won’t be using it by NAME, because the name of my town is WAY long to type ten thousand times.

But I’ll make sure to give credit in the novels to the real town that made me love it back when I was nine, and made me love it again when I returned here fifty years later.

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