So Where is Your Place to Write

It's kind of odd how one person likes to read one kind of fiction and another person likes to read something completely different. And a third doesn't read fiction at all.

What is it that formulates our passions - or lack thereof - toward reading? I have two brothers and four sisters, and none of them are especially interested in reading fantasy. As far as I know, Ranlen only read college science books, mostly about geology, but some about astronomy and nature in general. Mikey likes biography, social awareness, and detective stories. Lynahr liked romance and Christian. Judayl likes detective. Gayanne read most anything, particularly mysteries, but seldom fantasy. Helvie didn't read much at all.

So why did I become so different? We all grew up in the same house. Had the same parents. But our interests are different. Mine apparently most of all.

My best friend likes to read science fiction. I have never been especially keen on science fiction. For some reason I have a horrible time trying to visualize it.

Back in the early 1980s I was accepted at the School of Christian Writing in Wheaton, IL. While there I met Myrna Grant, a published author. She taught one of the classes I attended. During the class she said something I have always remembered. "Learn what your place is, and write about it."

She wasn't talking about where you keep your computer, or notebooks, or desk, or whatever. She was talking about where your imagination likes to go to write. Her place happened to be Soviet Russia. For some, it's New York City. Others, it's any city. Or maybe a small town. My place appears to be medieval. All of my stories seem to be there, even if they don't have to be. Apprentice and Quest could just as easily have taken place in 19th century America, or any place, really. But in my mind it is medieval. That's how I see it. I wonder why?

There's a summer/fall thing which goes on in Shakopee, MN, called The Renaissance Festival. I love going there. Spouse hates it. But it's one of those places where the employees dress up in period costumes and artisans sell craft items made in similar fashion to what was done hundreds of years ago. There are also troubador harps for sale there.

Sometimes, I wish it were a place where I could live in all the time. Of course, with my health issues, I would die in hardly any time at all. But - sometimes - I think it would be worth it. Just for a little while.

After all - it's my place.