Living on the Edge

Some of my happiest times during the past few years have been when I have been standing on the edge of places.

On the edge of a canyon:

Black Canyon of the Gunnison -- north rim

On the edge of a lighthouse:

Lighthouse

On the edge of a pier:

Ventura Pier

On the edge of the continent:

Atlantic Ocean

On the edge of a day:

Ocean Sunrise

I’m not sure why edges have such appeal for me. Perhaps it’s because when I am on an edge, I can see a long way, catching glimpses of possibilities far in advance of their appearance. Or perhaps it’s because edges create a boundary between two very different areas — land and sea; balcony and air, cliffs and gorges, night and day — and such differences mirror my own internal boundaries. Or perhaps it’s more symbolic, a precursor to the time when I will be standing on the edge of life, looking out onto . . . who knows what.

Some people “collect” lighthouses, going from one to another, taking pictures, maybe even getting stamps in a lighthouse passport. I considered making such a trek someday, but what I’d really like to do is visit edges of places.

Maybe that’s where I’ll finally find happiness: living on the edge.

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Follow Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

On Writing: Looking Up

When your characters look up, what do they see? Sunsets and sunrises are so prevalent in books as to be clichés, yet every day there is a sunrise and every day there is a sunset, even if it’s too cloudy for us to see either. I suppose mentioning the rising or setting sun makes more sense if there is a reason. For example, tonight there was a gorgeous sunset here because of the fires in California. The smoke drifts to Colorado and is trapped by the mountains.

I try to find different things for my characters to look at, because to a certain extent, a character is what he sees. If a character sees a flock of what looks like hawks, and he or she knows that they are vultures, it tells you a bit about the character. Vultures fly in packs, hawks fly alone. Or so I’ve been told. Both hawks and vultures are equally lovely as they coast on the updrafts, but somehow knowing that the regal bird is a vulture and not a hawk takes away some of the beauty of the scene. 

In A Spark of Heavenly Fire, the characters see helicopters patrolling the skies above quarantined Colorado. In Light Bringer, which will be published next year, the characters see unnatural lights in the sky, they see strange airplanes, and they see an impossibly brilliant rainbow. In my WIP, the characters see a light in the west on Easter morning, and for just a moment, they think it’s the rising sun.

So what do your characters see when they look up? Does the sight have a bearing on the story? Does it tell you a bit about the character?

007a

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