This pic is of the Ross Apartments in the late 50s. I was maybe four of five. The place is gone, I think Hurricane Fran took it out. But looking through those time goggles we all have hanging around our childhoods, those were some good times. The old building was a renovated World War II barracks. I think we were the largest one on the beach since we had a cellar and lock room. I remember riding my tricycle down the long hall as they renovated the place, I also remember the 3 two story sand dunes in my back yard–all the cacti and stickers (sand spurs to yankees), the yucca plants, hairawn muhly and blue stem. I remember running across the empty lot across from my home, stepping lightly, quickly, and avoiding the stickers till I reached the giant sand dunes before the ocean. I was home.

All  these memories are fine and good, and they make great fodder for the writer in me. Combining those nostalgic feelings with the present day, questioning the status quo, realizing that all was not perfect back then, Knowing in my mind’s eye what   is and was true and presenting it to the page. Your characters speak your truth. And ain’t it cool as hell?

QUOTE: “Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.”  C. S. Lewis

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