An Old Soul

I'm wondering if the sun will ever shine in North Carolina again. Dreary days are good once in a while. They're good for curling up, reading a good book, and making soup. But a long string of them are depressing! It might as well be Ohio! Augh!

I'm finding myself deep in research at the moment. Pouring over old maps, specifically a 1958 map of North Carolina, books on wolves, interviewing those who lived and worked in the towns of the late 50s that I'm writing about, gathering photographs, absorbing a real feel of place and time. I am taking a few liberties, but for the most part, I want it believable to my readers.

It's not as easy to write about history as you might think.

I think it's easier to write about a world where sleek, thin computers rule, cell phones ring, and IPads rest in the hands of those lucky enough to afford them. It's the world we know, right now, as it's happening. Times have changed so drastically from the 1950s. Fortunately, I'm old enough to remember a lot of the early 60s. At least from a writing standpoint. Or maybe it's just that I'm an old soul.

I'm not necessarily into nostalgia. "The good ole' days." They were not good for a lot of folks. But they were rich in story and that's the heart of my interest. Rich fertile dirt, stuff I can plow up and harvest. Don't get me wrong, every once in a while, I find myself wanting to watch a high-tech movie, or read about the here and now. It's a nice diversion for me.

But within my own writer's mind ... I can get into a 1945 Ford pickup and let it take me where it wants to go.

I guess I am truly an old soul. I think of my stories in sepia tones, dusty, and cracked with age. And I suppose someday my body will be there as well. Knowing who you are as a writer is half the battle.

But in the meantime, my cell phone is ringing, and a light is blinking on my monitor. I have an email. This old soul may just have to dig out her turquoise princess rotary telephone someday ... and hook it up.

Blessings to you and yours.