My Dearest Charles:
I have fallen in love with Papa Stour.
Who is Papa Stour, you ask? Ha ha, you transparent Straw Man! Papa Stour is not a person, it's a place. My heart belongs to Gerard Butler. And sometimes to Vin Diesel. And, of course, to Jayne Cobb, the hero of Canton.
Anyway, it's a place. An island. One of the Shetland Islands in Scotland, to be exact. And oh, do I love it, and I loved it at first sight.
It was a story idea, of course. I've been writing almost every day for weeks, it seems like, but on different ideas. A few pages on this one, a few pages on that one. A long spurt on one story in particular. But, of course, there's always YET another idea glimmering in the back of my mind.
This one had been percolating after a dream I had. Not necessarily a good dream, and I knew the story wouldn't necessarily be a nice story. Plus, I knew the location had to be very specific. I needed an island, a real island, but not a warm, sunny, lay-on-the-white-sand-in-a-bikini island. Not a touristy, come-see-the-dolphins-and-all-our-lovely-merchandise kind of island.
I needed... populated but not heavily populated. Picturesque but nothing like a tourist trap. Cool if not outright cold, and definitely cold water. I wanted it to even have a broody feel, if possible -- not dangerous, but... isolated and weather-roughened, which would feel otherworldly to someone used to cities and well-lighted, well-traveled, noisy and well-populated places. Worst of all, cliffs and beaches.
Plus, I totally wanted it to be in the Scottish islands. What? I love me some Scotland. I've been in love with Scotland since, like, the second grade. And, ya know, they have the best legends about fantasy creatures.
So, I kept shoving this idea to the back burner. Seriously? I didn't think any real island would have the qualities that would really make this story sing. The island itself would be so important, would be a character in itself -- sometimes helping, sometimes hindering, sometimes a friend, sometimes the antagonist -- that not finding the right one (or worse, just making one right the hell up) would throw the whole thing off.
But the idea niggled, and I finally bit. I googled the Scottish islands, then narrowed it down to either the Orkney or the Shetland islands. Then, because I had a Shetland pony when I was a little girl, I decided to look there first.
As I'm reading a little wiki info on Shetland as a whole, I learn that some of the islands are inhabited, while some aren't. I looked at the list of links for inhabited islands and out of the sixteen, one jumped out. I don't know why. It just did.
Papa Stour.
I could tell you it was the unusual name, but... let's be real. We got East and West Burra. We got Tondra. And much more eye-drawing, we got Muckle Roe. But I click on Papa Stour, and I never look back.
Every next thing I find out about it is perfect. For the story of course. It has that perfect British Isles weather -- rainy and foggy enough that the sunny days are to be treasured to their fullest measure. It's definitely isolated. It's a forty-ish minute ferry ride to the nearest more populous island. Speaking of population, it's currently (as far as I can divine with the 'net) down to nine. Yes. Single digit. The all-time high was over 300, but that was many moons ago. Sparsely populated, much?
Best part? Cliffs and beaches. Sometimes at the same time! In fact, I found one picture -- regrettably un-right-clickable, which I understand, but it's not like I was planning to use it for profit! -- that shows exactly the place where the inciting incident of the whole damn story takes place. Exactly. When I saw that picture, I could practically see my characters there.
Unfortunately, the island wasn't just perfect for my story. It's... dammit, it's perfect for me.
I wanna go there so bad I can almost taste the sea breeze. I want to walk its entire coastline -- all twenty-one miles of it, though the island itself is just over three square miles. I want to look out over the skerries and stacks as the waves either lap them or pound them. I want to stand snug in my little house and watch the mist and let my imagination run wild. I want to see if the residents are friendly and inviting or a little standoffish, because island people are some of the most fascinating people in the world. I want to take the ferry over to the Shetland Mainland (enjoying the ocean the whole trip) for all my supplies and stop in at a pub for a pint.
And, on weekends, I could totally explore the rest of Scotland. I mean, I'd already be there! If I had the funds to be there in the first place, I would likely have the funds to go walkabout.
So... maybe one of these days, I'll make my way to my new love. If it will wait for me, I will come to it. My heart is already there. Some day, my love. Some day.
Who is Papa Stour, you ask? Ha ha, you transparent Straw Man! Papa Stour is not a person, it's a place. My heart belongs to Gerard Butler. And sometimes to Vin Diesel. And, of course, to Jayne Cobb, the hero of Canton.
Anyway, it's a place. An island. One of the Shetland Islands in Scotland, to be exact. And oh, do I love it, and I loved it at first sight.
It was a story idea, of course. I've been writing almost every day for weeks, it seems like, but on different ideas. A few pages on this one, a few pages on that one. A long spurt on one story in particular. But, of course, there's always YET another idea glimmering in the back of my mind.
This one had been percolating after a dream I had. Not necessarily a good dream, and I knew the story wouldn't necessarily be a nice story. Plus, I knew the location had to be very specific. I needed an island, a real island, but not a warm, sunny, lay-on-the-white-sand-in-a-bikini island. Not a touristy, come-see-the-dolphins-and-all-our-lovely-merchandise kind of island.
I needed... populated but not heavily populated. Picturesque but nothing like a tourist trap. Cool if not outright cold, and definitely cold water. I wanted it to even have a broody feel, if possible -- not dangerous, but... isolated and weather-roughened, which would feel otherworldly to someone used to cities and well-lighted, well-traveled, noisy and well-populated places. Worst of all, cliffs and beaches.
Plus, I totally wanted it to be in the Scottish islands. What? I love me some Scotland. I've been in love with Scotland since, like, the second grade. And, ya know, they have the best legends about fantasy creatures.
So, I kept shoving this idea to the back burner. Seriously? I didn't think any real island would have the qualities that would really make this story sing. The island itself would be so important, would be a character in itself -- sometimes helping, sometimes hindering, sometimes a friend, sometimes the antagonist -- that not finding the right one (or worse, just making one right the hell up) would throw the whole thing off.
But the idea niggled, and I finally bit. I googled the Scottish islands, then narrowed it down to either the Orkney or the Shetland islands. Then, because I had a Shetland pony when I was a little girl, I decided to look there first.
As I'm reading a little wiki info on Shetland as a whole, I learn that some of the islands are inhabited, while some aren't. I looked at the list of links for inhabited islands and out of the sixteen, one jumped out. I don't know why. It just did.
Papa Stour.
I could tell you it was the unusual name, but... let's be real. We got East and West Burra. We got Tondra. And much more eye-drawing, we got Muckle Roe. But I click on Papa Stour, and I never look back.
Every next thing I find out about it is perfect. For the story of course. It has that perfect British Isles weather -- rainy and foggy enough that the sunny days are to be treasured to their fullest measure. It's definitely isolated. It's a forty-ish minute ferry ride to the nearest more populous island. Speaking of population, it's currently (as far as I can divine with the 'net) down to nine. Yes. Single digit. The all-time high was over 300, but that was many moons ago. Sparsely populated, much?
Best part? Cliffs and beaches. Sometimes at the same time! In fact, I found one picture -- regrettably un-right-clickable, which I understand, but it's not like I was planning to use it for profit! -- that shows exactly the place where the inciting incident of the whole damn story takes place. Exactly. When I saw that picture, I could practically see my characters there.
Unfortunately, the island wasn't just perfect for my story. It's... dammit, it's perfect for me.
I wanna go there so bad I can almost taste the sea breeze. I want to walk its entire coastline -- all twenty-one miles of it, though the island itself is just over three square miles. I want to look out over the skerries and stacks as the waves either lap them or pound them. I want to stand snug in my little house and watch the mist and let my imagination run wild. I want to see if the residents are friendly and inviting or a little standoffish, because island people are some of the most fascinating people in the world. I want to take the ferry over to the Shetland Mainland (enjoying the ocean the whole trip) for all my supplies and stop in at a pub for a pint.
And, on weekends, I could totally explore the rest of Scotland. I mean, I'd already be there! If I had the funds to be there in the first place, I would likely have the funds to go walkabout.
So... maybe one of these days, I'll make my way to my new love. If it will wait for me, I will come to it. My heart is already there. Some day, my love. Some day.
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