When it was time to put pen to paper, the decision about where to set Specter was an easy one. It had to be Connecticut, specifically a loosely-veiled version of the Farmington Valley—this despite the fact that there’s a good amount of myself in Lanie, the sixteen-year-old main character, and I had spent my own high school days in a Chicago suburb very different from the Farmington Valley.
I’ve lived in Connecticut for about ten years now, and it’s taken me a solid chunk of that time to feel like the state is really my home. Moving to the East Coast is a tough transition for a Midwest girl who’s used to open fields—from a zombie apocalypse perspective, I used to staunchly hold the position that I want all that open Midwest space around me so that I can see the undead mob coming. Now, after years of living in the lush, forested valley, my opinion’s made a hundred and eighty degree flip—I’ve grown to love the dense press of trees all around me, the mountains framing the horizon. It’s comfy having this much greenery around, like nature’s version of a lead blanket.
And all that forest provides a perfect setting for a book with much weirdness. Here are just a few examples of the startling things I’ve encountered in the CT woods…
- Bears at every turn. Morgan Matson needs to get her facts straight; I have no idea what the hell kind of “research” she conducted for Save the Date to claim that there are no bears in CT.
- This sound. (It was so loud.)
- Clothes stitched together into the shape of a human body and filled with stuffing to form a punching bag.
I don’t want to give anything away plot-wise, but suffice it to say that the CT woods—and the surprising things within the woods—features heavily in Specter. Weird attracts weird; CT and my book were simply a perfect fit. 🙂