As I’m reading about the Isle of Skye, I’m falling in love with the copses of emerald trees, the palimpsest graves, and the ghosts who wander ruins in violet moonlight. I’m also realizing how much of every fantasy story is borrowed from myth and legend. The collection of stories contained in this book reeks of Tolkien territory.
Alas, this read is helping me develop my new story.
Also, I have developed a newfound travel fever. It began when I traveled abroad last summer. Since then it has remained dormant but now it has re-emerged. Perhaps that is why I like writing stories; it is a way for the mind to wander to faraway landscapes and see the coral horizons of unknown islands. Of course, it is much better to see this beauty in a real way, but books help to quell the urge when I have duties to attend to, such as making an income.
I try to satisfy my desire to travel in the little ways. Tomorrow I will drive up to Davis to visit my good friend and browse the farmer’s market. Next month, I will get to satisfy a bit more of this bug when I fly to New York. I’ve never been to the city, though I lived in the state for 13 years…
I know. I know.
I know what you may be thinking. But what you may not be thinking is just how big of a state New York really is. A drive to the city would have been a good 6 hours from my town. That’s longer than how long it takes me to drive from Los Angeles to the Bay Area. Arguably, all of my California friends are almost always shocked to hear this.
There are other reasons for me not having been to New York yet. I think it is because I am a West Coast soul. I grew up with San Francisco feeling as familiar as a relative’s home.
So why now? Why go to New York now, specifically?
1. Neil Gaiman is giving a talk and I managed to score tickets because I rose at the crack of dawn to get them, pounding on my keyboard so hard I almost lost the tickets.
2. I am itching to get out of here. Anywhere but here. When I travel, time stops, and I like that. There is no room for routine when I am traveling.
3. I have a hankering for fall. Real fall, where the leaves change and your nose gets cold from being outside a mere minute. I love my Los Angeles lifestyle of running outside year round and drinking fresh coconut water but sometimes I really crave the cold. A dwelling place that’s a good thirty degrees cooler than LA sounds wonderful. Maybe San Francisco. Or Berlin. Or London.
Perhaps a move is on the horizon. A very distant one, but still, I can see its pink skies.