I’ve started a new book. I’m always starting a new book. I have new songs added to my playlist. I have a general idea of where I’m going. Okay, I know my destination, and my start and the rest is murky but I’m pretty sure it’s there.
But then there are the little details.
Um, does it snow in the Rhone Alps and if so how much around New Year’s?
How do the French people celebrate New Years? Okay, this one is easy as my critique partner is French.
But what kind of plants are native to the Rhone Alps. And how far will my High School French help in translating this page, because those on-line translators aren’t always very useful.
And just why don’t the French say zut alors anymore?
One word, one piece of the puzzle and I stop writing and start searching, and soon I’m on BBC America looking to see whent he next series of Doctor Who is starting. Or googling why The Crimson Field was cancelled.
Grr. I make stuff up for my books. Literally, you know that fiction is a lie, right? So I should get to say they ate pig’s feet for breakfast then they ate pig’s feet. But it is the little things that ground the reader in the fantasy world that I’m creating. And I’m creating a big one with all of Time at stake (see where the Doctor Who thing comes from?). So I need the little details correct.
Which means I’m stumbling over my void of knowledge. Hopefully soon, I won’t be tripping on air and will be happily typing away to finish the store.
Until next time.
