Wayward Wormhole: Getting to the Castle

Up a set of rugged stone steps, the doors of the castle opened and we entered. I’d been awed by its structure, by its historical significance, and its position in the Catalonia countryside. Now I was nervous. So much could go wrong in the next half hour. We had criteria regarding comfort, workspaces, relaxation areas, kitchens, and modern plumbing. After all, sixteen people living for three weeks in a drafty castle with tiny rooms and narrow hallways could end up being memorable for all the wrong reasons.

Plus, we wanted a private lounge for Ann Leckie, Tobias Buckell, Sarah Pinsker, and Cat Rambo, along with intimate indoor and outdoor spaces for students to read, chat, and think. Could the reality inside this 10th century castle possibly meet our needs? Our lifelong dream of writing in a castle depended on it.

With a mind set on problem-solving, I passed through my first ever castle doors and found myself in a spacious semi-furnished room with a storage area off to one side. My list covered a lot of rooms, a check for onsite supplies, and other areas requiring scrutiny. The entrance room wasn’t on the list, but it had a good air about it and my nerves dropped to a manageable level. With that, I grew confident that this experience was about to get awesome.

Our latest dispatch from Janet:

I’ve never written in a cemetery, but I’m drawn to the idea, especially after reading Neil Gaiman’s “The Graveyard Book.” So why haven’t I done it?

I admit I’m a bit intimidated to write amongst the dead. Even walking through a graveyard in the daytime calls up the imagined lives of the buried and their surviving families (even if those families passed on centuries ago).

Are there stories there? Sure. Are there distractions? Absolutely. Still, I imagine sitting in the shade with my notebook, absorbing the peace broken only by the chirrup of small birds and the far-off drone of a lawnmower. At least, I thought that scene was peaceful, until some scientist revealed that the lovely fresh-cut grass smell resulted from millions of grass blades screaming in agony as a thresher whacked them down to size.

This cemetery seems peaceful, though.

I’m going to write there.

Maybe one of the residents will tell me their story.

PS. Don’t be surprised by the bones you see poking from the cliff next to this graveyard. That’s where cannonballs hit the castle during the Revolt of Catalonia from 1640 to 1652. Attackers destroyed a small section of the castle along with the original cemetery. Unfortunately, any excavation work could undermine the castle’s foundation, so recovery and reburial is not easy.

ONLY ONE MORE DAY FOR THE OPEN EARLY BIRD SUBMISSION!