Fictional Reality

Nice to be back putting down a few thoughts in between scribbling on my latest story.  Last night we had a  tremendous windstorm, which usually doesn't happen around here until November.  Between chasing down my deck umbrella, a huge, three-in-one thing, trying to coax our dogs to venture out into the back yard for their before-bedtime constitutional, and seeing honest to goodness ash floating around (most likely from a grass fire that was blazing its way up and down a local highway), yours truly was making an attempt to get in some decent writing before hitting the hay.  I am always scribbling in my trusty notebook ideas for something new and last night was no different, while the east winds blew.  Hard.  As Labor Day ended, I contemplated a return to my town of Perfect for a new story after finishing up the one I am working on right now.  My town of Perfect has already been the basis for two books on Amazon, PERFECT HORROR and PERFECT HOLIDAYS, and I have been itching to return to the small community nestled within the foothills of the Cascade Mountains.  Perfect isn't my first fictional town.  I also have Evergreen, WA and Amber, WA.  The thing is, all three are based on a real town here in the Pacific Northwest, a small town where my aunt used to live and where I spent one long summer when I was a teenager, doing what I have always done for a long as I can remember:  observing.  That town was the kind of place (and still is, actually) that not only rolled up the sidewalks at night, but also had the tendency to forget to roll them back out the next day every so often!  Some small towns are called sleepy, but this one was dang near comatose.  Of course, it left a lasting impression.  I have used it as a basis (along with parts of my own hometown growing up) for pretty much 90% of the stories I have written over the years.  Years ago I even made a drawing of this fictional town, complete with street names, location of churches, and every business along Main Street.  But that drawing has been put into storage, aka the garage, since I have memorized every detail.  Earlier this year, I had to drop something off to someone I knew and realized that with a slight course change I could revisit that small town where I lived with my aunt all those years (decades) ago.  It felt... strange.  Everything was the same.  Oh, sure, there had been some changes, but mostly subtle, nothing too jarring.  Maybe a new coat of paint, different colors, but most things were still in the same place.  The trip was too short.  And then the pandemic hit and the idea of returning for a walk along that Main Street evaporated.  Maybe some things should be left to memory.  But my mind is demanding a return to Perfect, and a trip to that small town might be just what I need to jump start that story.  It's only thirty miles and thirty years away.  Stay tuned.