I grew up during a more innocent time and am still a little naive. Actually, some say I’m clueless. Examples?
I always thought the song went, “One toe over the line”. I liked it and sang along loudly, enthusiastically, and incorrectly for years. About ten years ago I learned the word was “toke” and also learned what that meant.
And I thought the Doobie brothers were a bunch of siblings from the Doobie family.
Come on, confess. There are times you’ve been clueless, right? Please share. I’ll feel so much better.
Over and over, I’ve been told, “Write what you know.” I’ve never agreed. If authors stuck to writing what they knew, no historicals would be in print because the author wasn’t alive to witness those events. Agatha Christie would never had written her mysteries because, as far as we know, she never killed anyone.
I wrote two historicals that took place in Regency England in 1812 and another that took place in Texas 120 years ago. Had to do a lot of research to do that.
Then I started writing the Tales from Butternut Creek series and realized I was writing exactly what I knew: a minister in a small town church. The Palm Sunday donkey running away with his rider? I was one of the group that grabbed the animal before he could toss the boy off. A minister’s fear of counseling a member of the congregation? Been there and survived and the woman I counseled did as well. The group of women who run the church? I’ve met them in every church either my husband or I have served and readers tell me they know a Miss Birdie. All the stories, all the embarrassing and funny situations we lived came together in these books and I’ve had such a great time writing them.
Sometimes the memories make me laugh. But members of a congregation suffer, too, and I cried with them. Those hard times made the books, too.
Of course, I didn’t live through or actually witness everything I wrote. We never lived in a huge Victorian parsonage but I’ve always wanted to—if I didn’t have to do the housework. And I expanded on some of the scenes. In Butternut Creek, the donkey took off down the highway with the kid hanging on his back. In reality, he ran only ten yards although I imagine the boy riding him thought it last far longer.
Have you had an experience you think should be in a book? I’d love for you to share.
I grew up in Kansas City, MO. My father was a huge University of Kansas fan so we drove to Lawrence for every home football and basketball game as well as the Kansas Relays.
What I especially loved–even as a young child–was the glory of the changing leaves during our autumn drives. Do I remember them as being more beautiful than they were or do I just miss them that much?
What do you think? Do you enjoy the four season? Which is your favorite and why?