Anyone who sews, knits or weaves knows how important a single thread or length of yarn is to the whole piece. I think the same applies to other forms of art, wherein something in the artist or the writer’s character runs thread like through all they produce. For me, that thread is my love of nature, and it has run unbroken through all I’ve ever written.
When we speak of nature, we most often think of woods and trees, of oceans and rivers, of hills and valleys and flowers and of all the wildlife that call those places home. But as the highest form of life to date on the food chain, we too are part of that all-encompassing thing known simply as nature. And it is nothing short of amazing to learn how many life processes we share with other species with which we feel no kinship at all. That said, when I write–be it about plants, animals, places, or people–I am indeed writing about nature, or at least giving her a place in the drama, as she is, literally, the source of it all.
In my first e-book, “The Snowing,” I write about a family trapped by a blizzard that lasts for days and that show no sign of stopping. These four people are truly at nature’s mercy as they try to devise ways to survive, which they ultimately succeed in doing. And while they are busy surviving, their relationship with nature is referred to time and time again, as it informs their very existence in very real ways.
The main character in my second book entitled “The Purse” turns to nature at one point to regain some sort of equilibrium and to find her center again, which enables her to deal with issues that arise while attempting to help an old woman she knows little about. In “The House,” a gang of school-age kids find a hideaway in the woods where they literally return to their own roots or beginnings in order to be able to set out on their individual journeys toward adulthood.
Nature informs the main character in “Collage,” the story of a simple-hearted soul who innocently places the lost children of the world into the same category as injured birds or stray kittens. And in “The Sound Leaves Make,” a woman dealing with terminal cancer flees to the woods where she believes she will find the answers she so desperately seeks in what little time she believes she has left.
Perhaps this thread just happened to fall out of the sewing kit that is my box of story ideas, or maybe nature is looking over my shoulder with each word I put down. In either case, assigning nature a role, however small, in all my stories just seems like the right thing to do.
View all my books at: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JJ259DS