I had hoped that I’d be able to announce that I’d finished
the first draft of book three today. But it’s not quite done. The first draft
is longer than I anticipated because twists that I hadn’t planned came together
at the end.
One of the twists involved a hiding place (don’t worry, I
won’t give you any big spoilers). And I got to thinking about hiding places and
how much I like them. Screwing Up Time
had hidden passages and a secret document cache. I think the idea of finding
something hidden appeals to everyone. Though maybe as adults it’s less so.
Maybe we’ve become too jaded.
But I love how children still look for hidden things. In our
living room we have a massive armoire. It’s an antique from France. In the
middle it has a thick mirror backed with quicksilver (mercury). When children,
especially young ones, walk into our house, it’s among the first things they
notice. Because it’s an old mirror, it has much more dimensionality than modern
mirrors. (And it’s very flattering too.) It really does look like you’re
staring at your twin. Even older kids reach out to touch the mirror.
Then, they usually look at me. There’s wistfulness in their
eyes and I know they’ve read The
Chronicles of Narnia. I ask the child, “Would you like to look inside?” The
child always nods his/her head. I warn them, “I wish it were a passage to
Narnia. But it only holds linens—tablecloths, place mats, and bedding.” They nod,
still hoping.
Finally, I open the door. They peer inside. I say, “Go
ahead. You may touch the back and make sure it’s there.” And they do.
Part of me is always sad when they feel the wood at the
back. But strangely, the kids are always thankful. They give me a smile and I
feel for a moment as if we’ve shared a common hope—a wistful sense of literary
intrusion in the real world.
The other day I decided that I’m going to get a fancy bowl and
fill it with candy and put it in the back of the armoire. That way, there will
be something for the children to discover after all. Not quite the same as
Narnia, but a happy surprise anyway.
 |
| Here's a photo of the armoire I took this morning. It doesn't give you the best sense of its size, but I'm standing about ten feet away from the armoire. |
