Where Am I?

One of my favorite aspects of working on a new manuscript is immersing myself in the place of the story.  I've written in previous posts about my love of the American South.  But within the South are so many regions, so many unique places that vary dramatically.

Sweet Divinity was set in a place I know well.  The rural foothills of northwest Georgia is beautiful country with rolling hills, trees so dense you can lose yourself in them, and fresh, clean air that fills the lungs and the soul.

Miranda is set in early 20th century Charleston, SC, a place I lived during graduate school, a place that certainly has a character all its own.  One of my favorite stories of my time in Charleston involves a co-worker of mine from Drayton Hall Plantation.  For the record, Drayton Hall is the only original plantation house you can tour in Charleston.  It's the real deal, and all of the museum educators (we were more than "tour guides") have relevant college degrees.  When you travel to Charleston, choose Drayton Hall.

When I worked at Drayton Hall there was a man named Bob who had been a museum educator there for so long that he actually knew the final Drayton to live in the house.  He himself lived in a carriage house downtown in a compound with another man who collected antiques and Bentleys.  Every year they opened their homes for the Charleston Tour of Homes, and so the year I worked at Drayton Hall, I of course went to see Bob's house.

I went to see the antiques next door, the most memorable being a pair of giant iguana feet turned into mugs.  I also went to see the Bentleys which were kept in part in a double-decker garage.  But what I really wanted to see was the portrait above Bob's mantle.  It was a thing of legend with the other educators, and I was itching to get a peek.  So I dragged my husband downtown and we waited patiently to enter Bob's home.

I wasn't disappointed.  Bob had a dog named Beauregard; in fact he had had several dogs over the years, and all were named Beauregard.  And above his mantle hung a portrait of Beauregard.  Bob had taken a portrait of a Confederate general to an artist who took the human out and put the dog in.  Before me was a painting of a golden retriever in a Confederate general's uniform, holding a pen, signing a document, looking incredibly regal.

Charleston is full of such stories.

My new manuscript, Reliance, takes place in a small, southern mountain town in the early 20th century.  I'm planning a road trip to Reliance, Tennessee, in a few weeks to fully immerse myself in the place and in the culture.  But for now I've tried to capture Reliance in my imagination, and here's what I've come up with:

The road into Reliance is like a snake wrapped around the heart of the mountain.  The trees are dense, primeval, untouched by the hand of man.  The people of Reliance are just as untouchable, and just as swift to strike.

I can't wait to go to Reliance and listen to what the mountains are ready to share with me.