Finding the Place

A couple weeks ago, my family and I took a journey into the mountains. I grew up in a small town nestled at the foot of Pike's Peak, so these hills are home for me. Our adventure took us to Rampart Reservoir, not far from the Waldo Canyon burn scar.

Water fascinates me. I've known people to be afraid of it. I love it. I could watch it for hours. Riding on it is a different matter. (I worked as a production manager on a cruise ship for two seasick-filled weeks...) But standing on a nice, non-moving shore tickles my fancy quite nicely.

I wrote a scene in Fusion where my main characters are following a dry riverbed. They are about to descend upon one of the villains, so something bad has to happen. Before they can escape the riverbed, it's filled with a sudden rush of water, and a couple of the characters face a life-or-death struggle.

One of them manages to fight the waters and swim to shore. He stands atop an outcropping of rocks, scanning the waters for his friend.

As I stood, looking out at this beautiful reservoir, I could envision the scene happening. I can't tell you how many pictures I took of these rocks (above), but they captivated me. In my mind's eye, Kaine stood right there, shouting down toward the water as he tried to catch his breath, his heart crying out for the one lost in the water. Behind him, Rider approaches, still hopeful, but doubt starting to set in. They climb down from the rocks and Griffin, always the voice of reason, insists on giving up and returning home.

They were right there.

It amazes me how often the escape--the fantasy--collides with reality. Perhaps it comes from writing what we know, even if it's in a setting we're not familiar with. Those memories shine through our sub-conscious onto the page. Or maybe a cosmic sign that we're on the right path--following our imaginations and our hearts.

Or, you know, it could just be that I'm absolutely bonkers. More than likely that. But I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I love my madness.

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