A visit to Kinsman always sparks my imagination. I love that rural part of Trumbull County. The novel I started in November for NaNoWriMo is set in a fictionalized town of Fairview, a conglomerate of this area. That Midwestern, yet New England flavor of a farming community I think we all in some way hunger. It seems to say Americana.
As I was driving down Rt. 7, I thought of the towns and could not remember the one starting with a B. My brain hurt. I left Kinsman, the main school now is in Vernon, and the next town after Vernon Center is... I could not think of the name. I could think, one of Mom's favorite cousins lived there(Howard Slater), the towns are like in Connecticut(yes, years ago it was Connecticut), there, all over the place. I ticked off Hartford, Orangeville, but that B one just wouldn't budge from my memory. Belview, no, Belvernon, shake my head no. Oh, just wait a few minutes and the sign will be there. My mind wouldn't let it go. I couldn't relax.
Just before I could see the sign, Burghill leaped into my head. Yes, and the pain went away. Burghill, the Christmas tree place. Twenty some years ago, a really good restaurant fed us many times, there.
Now, I could go back to thinking about Christina and Eva and where I left them in my writing. I feel sometimes, I can see the broad view, but the details bog me down. My writing is like my driving, slightly like flying sometimes. I'm three feet off the road, not in the thousands of feet, as I skim over the landscapes, not stopping for anything, the destination the only thing in mind. I love seeing the scenery, but I don't see the details or the back stories. I do stop occasionally for the bald eagle or a flock of wild turkeys. A long time ago, I saw a red fox. No cell phones with cameras then or I would have snapped a picture.
What do I do next in this scene with Christina and Eva? Then, my mind floats to the stories I want to write about my dad, dubbed "JT stories." I wonder about the cross road story, too, the other day, as I passed through Johnson on 193.
I need to write and then revise. I love all these stories, but they travel around in my mind, not on the computer screen. An extra blessing this weekend, I'm on call, but have no scheduled visits. I can go to Fairview, OH in July, 1918 and finish the scene I was writing. Good-bye! as I fly.