Planes are grounded, but we can travel. As writers we can allow our characters explore the places we long to visit. I am forcing my fictitious friends to visit restaurants, parties and the fairground. I am delighting in the hustle and bustle of the crowded locations and soaking up the atmosphere more than ever before. A lockdown cannot lock my imagination and the silence helps me to find the words.
My work in progress, Loving You (working title) is set in the seventies so I escaped to another time and place. I selected my seventies outfit, added some powerful eyeliner and made my way to a Valentine’s party in a café located in Dockers Row, Aberynys. Lorenzo and Stella Ferrari introduced a community to Italian food. It may be a simple menu, but I enjoyed the comforting aroma of garlic. Food was plentiful and the atmosphere was heavy with the laughter. I departed from the café before there was any sign of love, but I heard some soulful singing. There were whispers of strike action at the sewing factory from some of the other guests. I may need to share some of my store cupboard recipes with the factory girls.
I bought a lovely red Mini Cooper and followed a Ford Zephyr out to Delfryn. Oh, it is so beautiful there. The river meandered through the valley and spring was in the air. I spotted a young man absorbed in a painting. I did not chat to Jim as I found myself back here in front of my laptop when the news headlines disturbed the flight of my imagination. Cake o’clock with and strong pot of filter coffee always gets me through the days at the moment.
Time to leave reality again, I travelled to France via Roseanna Ley’s novel, Her Mother’s Secret. I met a writer in the novel who explained that:
‘The writer could be as selfish as he pleased. He could nip into that other world whenever the urge arose, returning to reality only when the necessary work was done.’
I love nipping in and out of reality and I find myself breaking simple rules of life to shake it up. I can have cake for breakfast, bacon and eggs for tea and make up a silly dance to Abba music if the mood takes me. I don’t care if the neighbour sees me dancing in the garden room: anything goes at the moment.
I invite you to make up your own rules in the comfort of your own home. Book yourself into a good book or write yourself into the places you miss. Seek solace in good old fashioned comfort food. For instance, I made tomato soup with fresh tomatoes that were too soft and squishy. I roasted the tomatoes with dried herbs, seasoning and olive oil at 180 degrees. When the tomatoes were cooked and deliciously sweet, I blended them with stale bread to thicken up the soup. Delicious! This upside-down world meant we ate the soup at midnight and then I went on to plan a new village I will immerse myself in when writing my third novel. When my editor checks into Delfryn and Aberynys, I am going to write a light-hearted story set in Yorkshire. I have already met Maisie and called in at Heatherbridge.
I am going to love you and leave you and wish you the power of your imagination to help you through this difficult time.
Please all my Handbag Adventures and my website and blog at JessieCahalin.com.
A copy of my first novel is available here.
Instantly, she retrieved a copy of her novel from her large blue handbag. 
Carol’s fun manner is infectious. It was clear that the women on the neighbouring table were straining to catch a glance of the new novel. Carol left the book peeking out of her blue bag, and it was impossible to miss the tempting front cover. One of the ladies searched for the book on her phone. 
Carol: My characters have become very special to me, even the less likeable ones, so I did miss them when I stopped writing. There are six main characters in 
Tuscan Roots
I stopped at the mill ‘hidden in the folds of the Alps of the Moon, where the sun sets from the jewel red skies behind misted blue peaks.’ Anna’s mother once lived in a mill, and she explains ‘…the old building in ruins, crumbling into nothing seems to mirror what I am leaning of Mamma’s past.’ The Mill is ‘fragile’ and is a symbol of lost history and lost dreams that could be rekindled by the new generation. Sitting on the steps to read the letters and diaries, I sensed the ‘breeze that dances on the river’. Listening to the ‘sound of the river and distant sheep bells’, I could feel the loneliness of Ines. I am sure I heard the voices of the German soldiers who would have bathed there, and the whispers of the POWs and partisans hidden in the mountains.
I was completely spellbound by the characters and the clever structure of this novel. ‘
This novel evokes the senses and leaves the reader firmly fixed in Tuscany. Not the tourist’s Italy, but rural, down to earth Italy – ‘this landscape feels lived in’, and the author breathes life into ‘the ghosts from the past’. The story of the POW and partisans provide another dimension to this story, and I was impressed with how this was skilfully woven into the story.
