By Mark Alpert
I’m going to a wedding in Vermont this weekend. I know the state fairly well; my first job (almost thirty years ago!) was at a newspaper whose coverage area straddled the border between New Hampshire and Vermont. I went back and forth between Claremont, New Hampshire, and Springfield, Vermont, almost every day, and at night I often ventured to a bar called Bentley’s in Woodstock and a place in Proctorsville whose name I can’t remember. (The Station? Maybe that was it. I do remember that last call was at 12:30 am, which seemed ridiculously early.) I’ve skied at Killington, Okemo, Mount Snow and Stratton, and I went to the state fair in Rutland and the inaugural ball of former governor Madeline Kunin. But the wedding this weekend will take place in the fabulously picturesque northeastern corner of Vermont, which is so different from the rest of the state that it’s called the Northeast Kingdom. I’ve never been there, so this is going to be a real treat.
And I’ll be checking out the place as a possible setting for future novels. I’m always doing that. I don’t feel comfortable writing about a place unless I’ve been there.
In my upcoming novel The Furies (to be published in April, right after the paperback of Extinction comes out) I decided to set a gunfight in Bushwick, a neighborhood in Brooklyn I’m not so familiar with. I wanted to put the scene in a neighborhood that was gentrifying but still kind of dicey, and that’s what everyone says about Bushwick. But I was feeling a little uneasy about the choice, so I decided to take a stroll down Bushwick Avenue the other day. I started at the gentrifying western edge of the neighborhood, and I did indeed see many hipsters and artist types hanging out at newly renovated cafes carved from the ground floors of former warehouses. And as I walked a couple of miles east, the hipster percentage gradually decreased and I started to see abandoned buildings and lots of graffiti, and I definitely got the sense, “Yeah, this is dicey.” On the plus side, I felt a lot better about the choice of neighborhood for my book, but on the minus side I began to worry about wandering into a real gunfight. So I cut the expedition short and found a great little deli and bought a bottle of Jarritos fruit-punch soda. It’s delicious stuff, incredibly sweet. Then I climbed up the stairs to the elevated track of the J subway line and headed back to Manhattan.
Yeah. See, my yellow streak is a real problem when it comes to checking out sites where dastardly deeds might play out. I prefer to make it all up and hope it sounds realistic.
So far I’ve only tried to write about places that I’m intimately familiar with. But a recon like that is interesting. Did you take photographs or leave the images in your mind?
Vermont is such a beautiful state–i was married in Vermont in a garden gazebo at my dad’s farmhouse in Bradford, which is framed by rolling hills that look like they could have been the backdrop for The Sound of Music. Couldn’t have asked for a prettier wedding!
Your story about the bars in Vermont during your newspaper days reminded me of the first sports editor I worked for, who had it down to a science. On a Friday night we’d cover games, go back to the office and write everything up (in the days before computers, we still wrote on manual typewriters) and turn the copy in for typesetting. Then we’d hurry to the closest bar, a half mile away, and have time for two beers (and he had a couple of shots) before hurrying back to the office and get everything pasted up. Always made deadlines, and he got his drinking in, and the paper paid for his bar buddy – me. I was young it wasn’t until years later that I realized, “Of course, Ted was an alcoholic.”
I agree with writing about locations you know. You get smells, the angle of the sun, and the feel of the breeze correct (and several dozen other factors).
Last year, I wrote a short story that took place in Key West. I live in Seattle, so a trip kitty-corner across the country was not possible.
What I did was to walk the streets of Key West on Google Maps. I noted certain stores like an ice cream shop to add smells. From my memories of other warm, humid environments, I added the feel of the weather. In the end, It worked. At least, people who have been to Key West said it did.
Stumbled upon Bentley’s on a rainy fall day years ago on a leaf-peeping trip thru Vermont. It was one of those great old pubs where everyone knows your name even if they don’t.
Have a great stay! And soak up the atmosphere!
No offense but reads a bit like “Dear Diary”. Topic is ?
I have a habit of walking about places whenever I travel, to fill up the reservoir of sites and smells etc. On more than one occasion I have hotel maitre-d’s or security guards get on me after I told them where I went. This backwoods Alaska boy/former Marine has walked through a few neighborhoods he probably shouldn’a walked, Northeast DC, several parts of Baltimore & Philly. Part of Columbus Ohio and a few places in Baja California, Mexico. That’s not to mention the Alaska backwoods with mountain lions, moose and bears, oh my. But I never felt scared…except once…in Atlanta Georgia a few blocks west of the Atlanta Underground I got into a place where I felt truly out of place and in imminent danger for my life…maybe it was just the moment. Scary. Good book fodder.