I’ve been busy, busy, busy lately writing a song and a poem about my parents to be shared at a party in honor of their 50th wedding anniversary later this month. And I spent much of last month cheering on a gal pal who I met here on The Writer’s Post in her quest to complete NaNoWriMo (which I’m thrilled to say she did). You might say I’m in an artistic “zone.”
Which has made me think about how nothing fictional is truly fiction. Everything we writers write derives in part or whole from life and our experiences. As your host for Blog Hop # 58, that brings me to our topic.
I invite you to consider the following: “It is said that ‘Life often imitates art.’ If you could step into a book or a piece of art, which one would it be and why?”
Late this summer Gary and I took a trip to Vermont, which culminated in a day spent at the Vermont State Fair in Rutland. Up until then, I’d never been to a state fair. What awaited me was the stuff of legend.
We got there during the daylight hours so I could see all around me. The fairgrounds site was enormous — stretching as far as the eye could see. But with all the rides and concession stands jammed into the space, to say nothing of the people, one couldn’t see far. 😀
As we walked along the midway, I took it all in. The outlandish rides with their vibrant, seductive signs and the game booths with their kaleidoscopic array of prizes. The concession stands proclaiming all kinds of greasy or icy or staggeringly sweet treats and the aromas that wafted from them. The din of the music from — well — everywhere. The scene was like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life.
I tell you, I half expected to walk into the animal barns and see the stall of a smiling swine over which was a spider web with “Some Pig” woven into it. 😉
When day gave way to nighttime, the absurd idea that people would actually retire to their homes/hotel rooms and go to bed was put to rest, so to speak. To the contrary, that was when the entire place lit up and sprang to life. It was overwhelming, magical and completely unforgettable.
As Gary and I continued to walk, hand in hand, I found myself thinking of young love and Fern Arable and Henry Fussy. And when Gary and I finally left, although the fair was still going strong, I couldn’t help but wonder if hidden away in one of the many barns, a rat, named Templeton or otherwise, was making plans like this:
“I’m going to make a night of it. The goose was right. This fair is a rat’s paradise. What eating! And what drinking! Everywhere is good hiding and good hunting … This will be a night to remember in a rat’s life.”
I’ve read countless numbers of books and been to dozens of museums where I’ve seen more works of art than I can remember, so if I’d been asked the question, “What oeuvre would you step into?” I’m not sure I necessarily would have chosen, “Charlotte’s Web.” So I’m absolutely thrilled that it chose me.
I can’t wait to see your pick! Hope you’ll share it on the hop!
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