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Sunday, June 28, 2009
One of my favorite scenes in the book is toward the end where the hero faces the villain. It’s not so much what’s going on between the men at that point, as their surroundings. Historical romance is one of my first loves. I inserted a few flashbacks of the hero’s beginnings in the story because I love to write about other times and places. And in the scene the hero has just walked into a dilapidated castle. It smells of centuries past. The wall hangings and curtains are in tatters. Dust is thick as volcano ash. Ghosts mill about, woman in 18th century dresses and high wigs. Mice scurry about the wigs. In the background a ghost plays the Cat’s Fugue on a harpsichord. Overhead an ancient candelabra holds dozens of burned candles, the wax forming stalagmites on the floor. A beheaded ghost in frockcoat and rotting lace bows to the hero, his head tucked under an arm.
Mmm, I love that setting. I think I was born in the wrong century. I always seem to navigate to the 17th or 18th century in my writing, even if it’s only flashbacks in a contemporary. And Paris, of course. What is it about the city I love so much? I’m not sure. I’ve always been fascinated by it. In fact, when I went there for the first time a few years back, I thought it would feel like going home. It didn’t feel that way. In fact, I wasn’t overly impressed. Not until I visited Versailles. Of course, I’d arrived in Paris a few centuries too late.
What about you? Ever feel like you were born in the wrong century? Wrong geography? Where would you be right now, if you’d been put in the right place?
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