The writing life is tough. Even vacations can be tangled in the web of story, character, and plot. This vacation is no exception. Driven by the need for knowledge and verisimilitude for my upcoming short story, “High Stone Chateau,” I have once again trekked with Shelley into an environment filled with intriguing culture, atmospheric climate, and mysterious backroads and byways. By all that, I mean that we have flown from the rain and cold of Seattle to the warmth and bliss of Sonoma County wine country in California.
I know. I know. You’re going to say, “Aw, poor little Tommy. Does him have to suffer in that hot sun all day? Does him have to wear him sun hat to keep mean old Mr. Sun off him head? Does him have to slurp wine until him might fall over? Poor beebee!”
And that’s just it. Here I am, sitting around by the pool, bathed in the glare of that unfamiliar object in the sky, fearful of getting a burn on my tender white hide, feeling compelled to have another sip. It’s tough duty, but I intend to prevail.
Hopefully, when all my suffering is done, “High Stone Chateau” will have some of that “Je ne sais quoi” that makes a good mystery story so intoxicating.
God knows I’ve been through hell to create it.
