Inspiration

Ta-Da!

Janet Fisher4 Comments

First one out!

And so we reach the climax of the glacial saga of the enduring golden daffodils on their reluctance to face a chilly approach to spring. Yet they must. Hope reigns after all.

Below, these curious critters look on, perhaps wondering why in the world I would be down on my knees before a flower, not knowing they have become witnesses to a camera’s capture as well as minor characters in the story.

Now, confident in my flowers, I am ready to charge forward with that other saga, my new book. I’m reaching back to ancient Ireland again where a young woman, an Irish goldsmith, takes a perilous journey in search of a forbidden secret held by the Saltlanders, a people who would one day be called the Celts.

Promises

Janet Fisher6 Comments

A show of promises came in doubles yesterday when a rainbow formed over my emerging daffodils–an ancient symbol of promise for better days along with my own floral symbol of promise for spring light pushing back the darkness of winter.

The daffodils haven’t quite opened yet, but these brave flowers have stood tall through a lot of unusually cold days. I’m at 600 feet above sea level so I’m a little colder than the valley floor, but mine are on their way.

Here come the first ones today on a balmy afternoon. Almost there.

By next week I expect they’ll be in full bloom as I sit down to begin writing my new book. I’ll take that for a promise. May the book be a good one. The actual writing is always exciting for me. I appreciate the show of hope nature provides.

Morning Light

Janet Fisher

First light on snowy western hills always thrills me. I wake in the dark early hours, thoughts spinning, as my new book comes to life. I know I should be sleeping, but I’m just beginning to see how that next scene will take shape. It grips me, won’t let go.

Finally the room fills with light and I rise from my bed to see this. How can I not stop to share it?

For my followers who may not realize, snow rarely comes to these Oregon hills. Not like the mountains of Montana where I lived for a few years. These foothills of the coast range usually stay green with Douglas Fir forests, even in winter. The middle ground is Pleasant Plain, so called by the pioneers who settled it, the foreground my own oaks. All more accustomed to green. The deep-green river wraps around Pleasant Plain on its snaking journey to the sea.

I step out onto my deck for the early picture. A quick shot. It’s cold out there. In the 20s. We’re not used to that either.

It’s also the view from my office where my stories grow.

The sun lifts higher. I’m just past the three-quarter mark on the outline. Time to turn those waking thoughts into story.

A Writer’s Inspiration

Janet Fisher

Where do the ideas come from?

A whisper from your muse?

The deep wells of your mind?

The fogs in your surroundings?

Writers wonder these kinds of things–perhaps most often when they face a blank screen.

With my last project pretty well wrapped up it’s time for me to start a new book. I’ve had some ideas already. Took some notes. Worked out a potential storyline. Named some characters. I put all that away over the holidays and had other things to do. Now it’s time and procrastination begins.

How do I make the story live? Yesterday I spent all day renaming my protagonist’s little brother. I like the new name, and it stirred other thoughts. I began to envision scenes. Today I opened the window blinds and noticed the fog rising on the river, like dreams, like story. By afternoon a feeble sun broke through, and I grabbed a coat to head out for my walk.

So many ideas emerge on those walks. Fog still rising. Rolling down the river between the oak hills and timbered slopes. The story will come. I just have to let it in.

(Photos taken with my new iPhone on the family farm.)

Thinking of Ireland

Janet Fisher4 Comments

As drought dries the landscape of my Oregon home, turning the green to gold, I dream of the green fields of Ireland.

Horses in Ireland’s green fields

One day soon I hope to revisit the magic of Ireland. Meanwhile my books take me there.

My upcoming book series features two island settings–Ireland and Crete. For some time I have started this ancient historical saga in Crete, but I’m bringing Ireland forward now with Whisper of Wings as the opening book, where they call the place by its old name Éire.

Irish clan leader Bria knew only peace before the slave traders came, but she must now learn the grief of bearing weapons of war to save her People of the Stones. The Éireanns play a role in most of the other stories.

I first visited Ireland because of my Irish roots. My DNA shows at least a trickle of Irish blood. I know my maternal grandparents were both part Irish. That was enough for me to adopt the place.

By the next trip I had learned more about the stone circles scattered over Ireland and had drafted Whisper of Wings. One more trip helped answer new questions that came up as the series grew. I see another Irish book in the future, beyond the series–or loosely tied to it. The island shall always hold a special place in my heart. The green and the friendliness of its people and the magic of its ancient monuments refresh my soul.

Irish back roads on the way to Bohonagh Stone Circle near Rosscarbery
The magic of ancient stones and new spring bluebells at Bohonagh Stone Circle, Ireland

Flowers of Promise

Janet Fisher

First daffodils of the season opened outside my house today. Their bright yellow color always shines a light of hope for me. Winter is passing. Better days ahead.

First daffodil flower this year, February 28, 2022.

The flower reflects a spot of sunlight shining through the dark rain clouds on a late February morning. This year it occurs to me that this same golden yellow shines on the Ukrainian flag. Much of the world looks upon that country today with hope for their success in their battle for freedom. These brave people remind all of us how precious freedom is and how important that we sustain it not only in our own lives but for the rest of the world.

Looking ahead to better days.