That all their ideas come
from epiphanies in the bath. That if they bother to do any research at all,
then it never goes much beyond the wonders of Google.
Well that might be true of some but it's definitely not my
style. Most of my inspiration still comes from the classroom.
Studying school yard dynamics is still a bottomless pit of content for me. Plus
stealing great narrative ideas is a doddle when you're the one doing all the marking.
Still, sometimes I find even that's not enough. Like last
week as I inched towards the final draft of my latest novel about a school full
of phobia sufferers. I could never quite shake off that nagging feeling that there
was still something missing. Some essential aura of authenticity.
There was only one possible solution - I had to be my main
character. I had to live in his head. To feel those emotions first hand and to
know what a gut wrenching fear of heights actually felt like in the flesh.
That's why I invested a large chunk of any potential future
royalties in an early morning balloon trip for me and my family. Alright so it tied in
very nicely with a bucket list present for my wife’s birthday. But trust me, it
was definitely all about the book.
Having my own minor fear of heights certainly helped. But would it be enough I wondered, to truly tap into the sheer terror that a real phobic would experience?
My doubts only grew as the balloon crew assured us that
there really was nothing to worry about. That ballooning was quite different from
climbing a ladder. That the feelings of vertigo weren't the same at all.
And they were right, it was nothing like climbing a ladder. It was more like dragging a tiny wicker
basket a thousand feet up a wobbly pole during a storm and then putting your life in the hands of a giant multi-coloured carrier bag. As for the vertigo I really couldn't say. I was
too busy cowering in the bottom of the basket, trying not peak through the
gaps.
I did lean over just the once, but that was only because the
balloon crew insisted. Whilst writing this post I've just discovered that large
hailstones can reach a terminal velocity of up to 180km/h.
So my guess is that breakfast
vomit has to be about the same. The good news is, it seemed to spread out enough
not to be much of a danger to anyone watching
below.
Also we were mostly flying over sheep paddocks and I’m sure they've had worse. You could tell by the way they
kept running away from the balloon.
So was it worth it. Has it helped? Did I find the true
essence of my novel's main character? Hopefully you'll get to read the book and
find out.
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