One more thing about yesterday’s hike. I recently wrote a short story set in the same world as Bones of Faerie. Only while Bones is set in Missouri, the story, “Invasive Species,” is set in the small mountain town of Summerhaven, which is just down the road from Marshall Gulch. In that story, which I researched last summer, the road leading into the Gulch is thick with magic-touched weeds and trees, so thick as to be pretty much impassable. And–this is going to sound strange–but I spent so much time picturing the story-version of the road as I wrote the story, that when I went there again for real, seeing the road not only passable, but autumn bare instead of summer green was–startling.
Even though, of course, the version of the road I’d been picturing instead, the one I’d been writing about, never really existed at all.