Snow Globe Land

Imagine yourself standing in the middle of a snow globe. There are no mountains. There are no trees and there aren’t really any buildings. I know what you’re thinking – already this snow globe is more boring than any of the ones in your 45 piece collection. However, please put your prejudices aside, and work with me for a moment. You’re standing in the middle of this empty snow globe. What is there to see?

The sky.

I have never really thought of myself as claustrophobic, but lately when I go outside, I have begun to feel a brand of panic that is new to me. Outside my house in a city, I can never see the skyline. In the summer it isn’t so bad. In the winter, it’s oppressive. I also have problems seeing the moon. Have you ever seen a red moon? I have – quite a few times. When the moon is really low and its light is filtering through the densest part of the atmosphere – it appears red. It’s super creepy when it’s an enormous harvest moon and alien when it’s a sliver of a crescent.

I grew up in snow globe land. Out there, you can see the horizon on all sides. The land at your feet stretches out for so long, you can’t see the end. If you lie on the ground and look up, it’s as if you’re sitting at the base of a protractor with a 180 degree view of the heavens in all directions.

However, living in a place like that is a great deal more like living in a snow globe than anything I’ve mentioned so far. Life in my hometown was a fishbowl (not unlike a snow globe). Everyone knows where everyone else lives. They know what car your parents drive and what they do for a living. Everyone knows a little something about everyone else – usually the most scandalous thing that ever happened. Almost always it was something pathetic rather than vibrant.

For a long time, I wanted to write a novel that took place in my hometown, but it didn’t matter what idea went through my head, I knew I didn’t have enough material to write a whole novel. Do you know why? Because I could never even pretend that anything interesting would ever happen there. All I could imagine was snow falling and life gently unfolding as the universe meant it to, but nothing truly fascinating could ever happen beyond the whirling snow and wind outside my window.

Well, it happened a while ago, but I finally penned (typed) my story about my hometown. It’s called Blog Entries of the Brokenhearted and I’d like to invite anyone who’s interested to go take a look. Here’s the link. http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2706114/1/Blog_Entries_of_the_Brokenhearted Please write a review on fictionpress if you have any special thoughts you people from my home town.