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Writing and Colorado

The contest I entered for A Series of Scandals will announce semi-finalists next Friday. 

I’m hopeful so you can see I’ve not been rejected enough to be jaded. 

I’m working on the sequel as I have posted many times before. It seems such a shame that it takes so long to write a book and such a short time to read it.

 

Colorado Mountains up near Golden.  

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Going for a drive last weekend with my husband, we found ourselves in Kiowa, an hour out of Denver. So we drove up the long dirt road that led to my grandparents' old farm. From the road, we saw the house now painted a chocolate brown. A new barn was added in front of the old barn my grandpa spent hours in there -milking cows and then in his later years working on repairing TV’s in the hay loft.

It was bittersweet looking up to the rock hill where my brothers and sisters used to play. The truth about that rock hill is - I loved playing up there and I hated it. We were sent out to play. The 5 room house (kitchen, living room, two small bedrooms and bathroom) wasn't large enough for 8 children and my parents and my grandparents to hang out for any length of time. 

Rain or shine, we went up that hill behind the house. I can remember each of us commandeering certain sections of the rock hill as our own homes. One of the rocks, we named the Queen's chair. There was a King's chair also but it was smaller. The beauty of having five sisters and only two brothers, girls ruled. 

I think that is why I like writing about an obscure place in time. The Regency Period. A time that lasted less than twenty years. In writing about it, we can go back and imagine a time that is gone. People who lived and breathed, had dreams and disappointments. The phrases they used and the styles they wore. 

  

I can't go back to the rock hill. I will never play there again. It is enough to see it from the road, and remember another time. 

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