That Odd Feeling of Displacement
When you're at home and storm warnings arise, you know where to go. You're with your family or at least are aware of where they are. Whatever happens, you'll deal with it from experience and prior planning.
On the road, however, it's a different experience. You're in a strange place. You have no idea where people are supposed to go for cover, no idea what the warning system is, and sometimes no one to ask. It's a different feeling, a sort of alone-ness that arises when it's too late to do research on the subject.
I've been in a car on the freeway in the immediate vicinity of a tornado. I've been in a camper in the path of a hurricane. I've been in a motel in the middle of flash flooding. You sleep in your clothes, look out the window a lot, listen to the radio/television weather until the signal gets lost. (Of course that can make things worse because weather people so LOVE to draw out their moment of glory.)
There's always a moment where I think, "Who will help me if the storm does its worst?" For mystery writers, capturing that feeling of displacement can make a story real. Often I read mysteries where the characters who've lost a spouse, parent, or friend seem only mildly inconvenienced by the tragedy. (I've ranted here before about the women who have sex with the detective within hours of their husband's demise.) It seems to me that the loss of a family member must be like being in a strange place in the middle of a weather disaster: fear, confusion, and uncertainty about what to do next must accompany what for most people is the biggest upheaval of their lives.
Think about your last experience with scary weather when you write those characters. What odd things might they do and say? Where might they turn in desperation? How might they view the world in their state of shock.?Imagining that will make the plot real and the characters convincing. They too are in the midst of a storm with no one to reach out to.
On the road, however, it's a different experience. You're in a strange place. You have no idea where people are supposed to go for cover, no idea what the warning system is, and sometimes no one to ask. It's a different feeling, a sort of alone-ness that arises when it's too late to do research on the subject.
I've been in a car on the freeway in the immediate vicinity of a tornado. I've been in a camper in the path of a hurricane. I've been in a motel in the middle of flash flooding. You sleep in your clothes, look out the window a lot, listen to the radio/television weather until the signal gets lost. (Of course that can make things worse because weather people so LOVE to draw out their moment of glory.)
There's always a moment where I think, "Who will help me if the storm does its worst?" For mystery writers, capturing that feeling of displacement can make a story real. Often I read mysteries where the characters who've lost a spouse, parent, or friend seem only mildly inconvenienced by the tragedy. (I've ranted here before about the women who have sex with the detective within hours of their husband's demise.) It seems to me that the loss of a family member must be like being in a strange place in the middle of a weather disaster: fear, confusion, and uncertainty about what to do next must accompany what for most people is the biggest upheaval of their lives.
Think about your last experience with scary weather when you write those characters. What odd things might they do and say? Where might they turn in desperation? How might they view the world in their state of shock.?Imagining that will make the plot real and the characters convincing. They too are in the midst of a storm with no one to reach out to.
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Comment
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Comment by Peg Herring on June 16, 2008 at 9:10am
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Isn't this whole marketing thing great?
Well, actually it is, most days! Good luck on the trip. I'm headed home tomorrow.
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Comment by Elizabeth Zelvin on June 14, 2008 at 1:30am
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Great post, Peg. I'm just back from book touring in the Midwest, where we drove through torrential rain and winds gusty enough to rock the eighteen wheelers all around us and freaked out about the constant tornado warnings, which we don't get in New York City. Luckily, I had my husband with me so didn't get that alone and abandoned feeling. On the other hand, he swears he'll never leave Manhattan again. Now I'm off to Seattle and California on my own--except that I'll be staying all but two nights with friends and have dates with many more including both mystery and non-mystery friends. The other day it was snowing in the Cascades, and then there's wildfire season....
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