One thing I've really been working on is outlining my next novel--I plan on having the rough draft of The Painted Queen completed by (at the latest) November, and want to be able to jump right into another mss. So, I've been mentally working out what's next in my head: a paranormal, set in Texas, during the worst drought of the century.
Coincidentally (and sadly), I've had a lot of inspiration as of late.
As many of you know, Texas is on fire. We haven't had rain in months. Growing up in an rural and agricultural setting really sensitizes you to the weather; everyone from ages 12 to 102 knows that we're in a terrible situation here. At home the temperature has been over 100 degrees for more than 20 days in a row, all with no measurable precipitation. My home area is under water rationing, and there's talk that the wells are actually drying up because there isn't enough water cycling through the environment to replenish groundwater sources. The biologist in me knows it's true; the agriculturalist in me knows it's only going to get worse.
People are losing their livelihoods one failed crop at a time. In my area, the soil is better suited to raising livestock than grains or fibers, but some people do still scratch out a living directly from the ground. But cotton didn't produce this year, unless one could afford to irrigate, which most people can't do. I took a walk across my parents' hay field while I was home, and with each step in what is normally thick, retina-searing green Bermuda grass, puffs of dust rose. What little is left of the grass is dead, a sickly yellow husk of cellulose. The livestock looks terrible. Gone are the days of additional feeding to put that extra sheen in the coats of your cattle. Now you're taking out loans, paying for feed just to keep everything alive. If you can't do that, you sell low, knowing that you'll take out another loan to buy them back in a few months when--if--it ever rains again.
Basically, everything and everyone is baking. In a time when the east coast is drowning, we're roasting.
And now, to top it off, we're on fire. When the whole world is a tinder box, one little spark is all it takes to turn 16,000 acres into a barren wasteland. The winds from hurricane (or is it tropical storm?) Lee brought a relief from the heat, but now are only fanning the flames higher. Mandatory evacuations are underway. People are losing their lands, their homes, and their lives.
While everyone else is running away from the fire, our local firefighters are running into it. Helicopters are hauling in water, but there are still hundreds of people on the ground, physically putting out the flames or digging trenches to save what little is left. Everyone is at risk. Under-equipped volunteer firefighters are rushing into the smoke, trying their damndest to save everything--to save something.
It takes a special kind of person to do that.
This post isn't looking for pity. It isn't about complaining or whining. Even though this is the worst drought I've ever seen, I know we'll pull through it. We always do. What this post is about is appreciation. Appreciation for the people in the service industry who run toward the fire when everyone else is running away. It's for the families of those firefighters who wonder if their wife/husband/mom/dad/daughter/son will come home tonight, tomorrow, next week. It's for the people who collect food to feed those working 18 hour days in the smoke and ash. It's for the people who open their homes to the homeless, who lend washing machines, a change of clothes, blankets, or beds. For those who raise funds to cover random expenses or to buy a meal for someone who has lost everything. For those businesses that put out the mason jars at the front counters--even spare change helps.
In the larger scheme, my WIPs mean nothing. The fact that I have the electricity to power my laptop and a place to stay with a roof over my head is more important. The fact that my family and friends are out of harm's way is the most important.
This post is about appreciating what you have, because you never know when it might be taken from you.
I know I need to work on that. Do you?
|Found on facebook--that's the Austin, Texas skyline. Taken by Austin photographer Deanna Roy http://www.deannaroy.com/|
|Taken around Bastrop, Texas. Over 200 hundred homes have been destroyed, with many more in imminent danger.|