The seeds of a story (or is it the story's cocoon?)
With novella 2, Pursuit and Moth Songs, out now at Amazon and elsewhere, you may be wondering where in the world an idea like the Moth Plateau comes from. A place where the moths are so thick they block the light? Why would I even imagine such a thing?
Well, the imagination is a strange thing, so there are probably many paths that came together for the story. But there are two things I can pinpoint as leading us here--hawks and Colorado.
Hawks: This part of the idea is the earliest little seed of the story. Quite a few years ago someone mentioned or I came across an article about hawk moths. Which are fascinating insects. I don't remember the exact context, but I remember flipping it around into a moth hawk. A tiny hawk, even smaller than Earthsea's Sparrowhawk.
I liked that. A little hawk flying around, diving at prey. I started thinking about how small a bird could be and still be a hawk. What would it hunt? Well, moths, of course. And dragonflies, perhaps. How prevalent must the moths be for hawks to evolve for such a niche?
So, that question was at the back of my head for a few years. But it took one other seed--one other cocoon perhaps--for the story to begin to take shape. And that was a specific type of moth, here in...
Colorado: Every spring/early summer is moth season here. Miller moths migrate up from the plains, pass through the Front Range, and head up into the mountains for the summer.
And they are everywhere.
These aren't clothes-eating moths or otherwise damaging moths, at all, but nothing we did seemed to keep them from coming into our house. Every night I'd be hunting down the moths that got inside, trying to make sure they didn't startle my kids or keep them awake (moths are noisy when they're flapping about the light fixtures and corners of the ceiling!).
Finally, after a night of chasing moths around the house, I remembered my earlier contemplations about a moth hawk, and the Moth Plateau began to take shape.
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