Bits of my real life have a way of making appearances in my fiction.
The bar in Hell that was a setting in my very first novella was an inside joke between a group of my friends in New Orleans. The story went that when we all died, we’d be cursed to work the bar in Hell for all eternity for our sins. I was going to be the cigarette girl. I used the setting slightly differently in the novella, but, still, it was there.
The brownstone where my heroine resides in my New Year’s Eve novella belongs to my friends. I stay there every year at Christmas when I go home to New York to visit. I’ve taken the dollar van many times too, and walked across Prospect Park just as the hero does in the story. He lives in the apartment of another friend.
The city-wide blackout which was a major plot point in another novella I wrote actually happened. The journey the hero and heroine took to get to her Upper West Side apartment was the very path I walked to get home on that hot summer day. I had to travel a bit father then they did however, and I didn’t have nearly as much fun.
KILVE, the title of a comic series one of heroine’s writes and illustrates, is actually the name I gave to cigarette smoking bunny sculpture I was given as a present many years ago.
Maybe that’s cheating? I don’t know. I enjoy doing it, though I do not do it intentionally. I don’t set out to add these details, but when they occur to me, I know they belong. And then they become my own, private kind of Easter Eggs.
Do you ever add a bit of your real life in your fiction?