Over the next two weeks, I will be in Oregon with my crazy uncle, my granny and her small Chinese Crested Powderpuff (above). Many adventures will follow. Although I have officially spent more of my life in New York, Oregon holds a place dear in my heart. In fact, the feminine protagonist of my forthcoming novel, Hot Love on the Wing, is from Portland, because, let's face it, all fiction is at least somewhat semi-autobiographical. Here is a passage that represents the wonder of this young woman, and her home, for the lovestruck hero:
Oregon. What was it like there? Ken Kesey was from Oregon. It rained there. They had good bud. He imagined lumberjacks and wet evergreen forests, mossy with glistening raindrops on ferns and hemlock, red cedars and rolling hills. He wanted to see that wild country. His taste of grand travel while driving through Europe made him reminisce about the vast experience he still needed in order to have a grasp on the world. He desired to leave New York while he was young enough to live elsewhere, and compare it to Shanghai, Amsterdam, Los Angeles, Melbourne, Beirut, Portland - he wanted to taste the world’s full course, and he viewed his country’s west coast as a substantive appetizer.
Pardon the mise en abyme, but that was a little appetizer wasn't it? Stay tuned.