Maine is one of those far off places we know with a mystical quality. We are close to Canada and far enough away from the big cities, bordered on the west by New Hampshire and on the east by the rockiest coast and the Atlantic.
Our neighbors keep watch over us and keep to themselves. We do the same for them. We are naturally laconic, being a bit shy of people from away but when called upon we can tell some tall tales.
From my earliest memory, Maine has been the place my imagination whisks me away to though I haven’t lived there since I was five.
I’ve found Maine in my solitary excursions to Golden Gate Park as a young girl on a bike and again when I moved to live in Wales as a newly wedded wife. Neither of these places are as cold in Winter nor as vibrant in Fall but close enough to give me that sense of being ‘at home’.
Where is the place you call home? Where do you feel your greatest sense of being where you belong?
A few years ago, the editor of a Welsh writers’ anthology asked me what I wrote about, what my over-arching theme was. Although I had never thought about it, I answered, “Finding a home, a place to belong.”
My serial novel in six installments, Nights Before, is set in Maine, a kind of love letter to the state and the people hardy enough to live there year-round.
All the very best,