As Far Away Places Edge Closer

An entourage from the White House is on a foreign tour right now, and my social media feeds are full of humorous images like the ones I show here. Given my political leanings, I find them funny even while I recognize the gravity of the situations.

In truth, it is more than news reports and twitter jokes that bring what were once far away places into my living room. I’m not the only one in my family infected by the travel bug, and those I am closest to are often far away. These days, their photos catch my eye as I’m online.

Tomorrow, I will say goodbye to my own significant other as he heads to a foreign country for the first time without me. It is an exciting opportunity for him (and a great chance for me to get a lot of writing done.) But he is a reluctant traveler, and the ease with which he heads off reminds me of how much smaller and more comfortable the world has become. Places that once seemed incredibly remote are now merely “two plane rides away” and “a trip I hope to make someday.”

Is a shrinking world a good thing? We now feel the pain of distant events in new ways. The sorrow they cause is difficult, the increased desire to help is laudable.  I was searching for a video of a song to convey that feeling, to stand in contrast to the various videos of “Far Away Places” that I posted on my other blogs.

I found this instead and realized that it was perfect.  Maybe that’s because it’s about the way the world could be. Or maybe, it’s about the way it really is and we just tend to forget..

 

(For more thoughts on Far Away Places see Those Far Away Places Could Be Next Door, Leaving a Light Footprint in a Far Away Place, Caring About Far Away Places and The Courage to Embrace Those Far Away Places.)

Coincidence? I think not.

“I don’t believe in coincidence.” Hard-boiled detectives say it, new age psychics say it, and conspiracy fans whisper it while glancing behind them. My own philosophy tends towards the interconnections of things, so I echo the thought too. No where in my life is the strange interrelationship of information more apparent than when I do research for my books.

coincidenceEach of my novels has been boosted by my own discovery of one or more connections that I found amazing. Southerners really fled to Belize after the civil war hoping to form a new confederacy? And I’m in the middle of a novel about the civil war and modern Belize? Wow. The nation of Kiribati once straddled the international date line? There actually are only two roads into Bhutan?

My crazy excitement as I discover facts that aid and abet my convoluted plots has become a familiar high now, and it remains one of the reasons I continue to write. I’m finally back to creating the sixth and final novel in my 46. Ascending collection and the plot thickens as my research goes on. Some connections will become central to the story, others will be trimmed down to a mere mention or less. But the discovery of them all leaves me high.

Equally delightful is finding connections between the stories in my books., because the collection always was meant to be about the surprising and even beautiful way that parts of life intertwine.  I dealt with one such example today.

spirit science 3I always run the names of my characters through a search engine. When I was writing y1 and I wanted my Kiribati-born fire-knife dancer to chose to call himself Afi, the Samoan word for fire, I checked it. Most references were to a San Francisco based musical group called AFI, short for “A Fire Inside”. Wonderful, I thought.  Maybe I can refer to their music in this book. So I listened to it.  It was haunting, filled with songs about cold and grey and winter and death. I liked it, I even liked some of it a lot.  But I didn’t think I had ever heard music less suited for a story about fire dancing in the South Pacific. So I put it aside.

Three years later I was writing d4, the story of a clairvoyant young woman facing life-altering challenges in Iceland and Greenland. As I searched for music to evoke the cold bleakness of her situation, AFI came to mind and their song “Love Like Winter” nestled its way onto her MP3 player. Here is a short excerpt from the scene.

(From Chapter 23) She fretted and dozed at the Reykjavik airport for more than five hours before her small plane finally took off into a cloud-filled night, with pockets of slightly warmer air causing it to bounce around mercilessly. Ariel turned on her trusty music, only to find herself listening to the old indie song “Love like Winter” by the San Francisco group AFI. It was good music, but it made her shiver in her seat as she held on tight to her armrest. She forced herself to search for a happy future premory, anything that would assure her that she would be alive in a week or two and need not worry.

Some of the far fringes returned nothing but blackness, and Ariel realized with a sinking feeling that those were futures in which she had ceased to exist. Very faint, unlikely, but planes did go down in the icy waters of the North Atlantic, and if you considered everything, then that future without her was there.

Once I referred to the song “Love Like Winter” in the book, I had to find the best video link.  I was so happy to discover this one of a live performance at Lollapalooza Brasil in June of 2014.  I love the passion of the band, and the passion of the crowd as well. I watched this video quite a few times, in fact, and liked it better each time. I now have to say, I think that “A Fire Inside” is the perfect name for these musicians.

You can buy AFI’sLove like Winter” at Amazon.