Writer's Notebook - James Rafferty Blog

Writer's Notebook: Walkabout in Asheville

Over the weekend, my son and I walked about the center of Asheville, enjoying a sunny Southern day and stopping in at various shops, galleries and cafes.

For example, we stopped at one gallery displaying the work of two artists my son had met and had a chance to chat with the artists and talk about their work. Later on in the day we stopped in again and stocked up on a couple of items to bring back to Massachusetts as gift items. One of the artists, Melissa Terrezza, explained the subversive notions behind plaster fortune cookies she had on display and revealed that she'd also played a part in work being displayed at another gallery. So we walked a couple of blocks and checked out a provocative show at Satellite Gallery by Joel Vanfuller. While my son talked shop with the gallery owner, I reviewed the photos on display. In each case, female models wore large African masks and not much of anything else, and a caption explained the meaning of the masks. Metaphors ran thick as the message of the masks collided with their setting in an American gallery, creating a cross cultural collage.

Next, we dropped in at the Green Sage, a premier coffee place with strong green thematica overtones -- not to mention wonderful food -- and I used my iPod to connect to the net.

We moved on to Wall Street, where we scanned several menus before ending up at the Laughing Seed, a vegetarian restaurant with remarkable menu choices. I ordered a Mango Lassi -- essentially an Indian version of a smoothie, though in this case including herbal overtones -- and their rendition of a falafel. While waiting for our meal, I found another Internet link and tweeted about this latest stop. Soon after, the food arrived and more than fulfilled my expectations, offering the taste of a falafel accompanied by a melange of fresh greens, peppers and other vegetables -- exquisite. As we headed out, my son bumped into a couple of other friends and we all exchanged jibes about the day and summer plans -- sometimes it feels like everybody in Asheville has some kind of artistic gig. Walking in Asheville -- it always seems to give back more energy to me than I expend.

Time to move on. I write this as my son and I take a road trip through ten states, making our way back to Massachusetts. It's a long way, but we've seen a lot. Onward.

Writer's Notebook: Signs of the Seasons

Fall in New England is one of my favorite seasons.  I've lived in New England most of my life, but never tire of the variety this season brings to us. 

Yesterday, I rode with a business colleague through New Hampshire and Vermont.  It was Columbus Day, sometimes celebrated as a holiday in the United States, and often touted as a great weekend for viewing foliage.  Well, in most years, you won't see much but bare trees in Northern New England by the time that weekend rolls around.  Happily, this year is an exception.  We had copious amounts of rain in the Spring and enough during the summer so that the foliage this year is rich in colors of gold, harvest brown, and pumpkin orange, and many shades in between.  Smoke from wood fireplaces drifts in the air, stirring ancient urges to gather around the warmth.  As the temperature drops, we develop a taste for hearty meals such as stews, curries, and ragouts, washed down by mugs of hot cider, cocoa and pints of auburn ale. 

Frost warnings permeate the weather forecasts, but often the days are still warm enough to enjoy our favorite outdoor activities, be it tossing a football, riding a bike, hiking a trail or walking with your pet. 

For a writer, autumn presents backgrounds that tickle the senses, but the season also works as a metaphor for the passing of years and the progression toward mortality.  I've included scenes of Fall in my novels and the nip in the air, variegated colors of leafy canopies and harvest aromas can transport the reader directly to that destination, bringing it alive. 

As a reader, how to you react to seasons in writing?  Do authors draw you in with the vivid descriptions of the change that Autumn or Winter brings?  Or is there a hidden terror in these periodic changes of life and its rhythms? 

If you are a writer or another type of artist, how important are the seasons in your work?  Do they inspire you?  Do they transport your characters to new realizations or spiritual yearnings?  Let's talk about the seasons and how they affect your art.