No, this is not about a snowstorm in April. I’m happy to see my friends in New England and other wintry places are finally enjoying spring. You people DESERVE it.
I’ve always had an affinity for books set in cold climates, some of my favorites being cold-weather classics. Nothing like a story set in Russia during winter, I promise. And Dana Stavenow’s mysteries in Alaska… they sure make for a heck of a picturesque setting.
Something about winter and a cold that cuts to the bone and settles deep into the heart (literally and figuratively) really seduces me in a dangerous way. It adds to the element of conflict, another hurdle, if you will, for the character.
How this Pertains to the Story
I lived in cold climate for twenty years. I don’t miss it. Notice I live in Los Angeles, not Chicago or NYC. No more winters for me. But I love it as setting, so I tossed my characters in the beauty and pain of winter.
Blame it on those early years, and a love for descriptions such as Main Street looked like winter fairyland. Fog rolled off the late, filling the street. Puffy clouds gathered, ready to blanket the town with snow.
And the metaphorical jewels the season provides: Like grief’s journey, winter had just begun, and The cold wind hit from every direction this morning as if bent on blowing humans from the face of the earth. ~ Stranger or Friend.
Now that winter is just about over, I can safely say I love winter from afar and in my mind.