Many readers have commented on the settings in my books, often centered--although not always--on the Oregon Coast or the Puget Sound area in western Washington.  But why these beach settings?  Why do they evoke strong memories that fuel my writing? 

   I grew up near Edmonds, north of Seattle.  Many decades earlier, Edmonds began its existence as a logging town.  Now this “friendliest town in Washington” boasts luxurious condos with sweeping views of the Sound, unique gift shops and boutiques, antique stores, and scrumptious bakeries--just to name a few.  In summertime and early fall, colorful hanging flower baskets adorn the main streets, giving the town a festive, European ambience. 

   I remember as a small girl scouring the beach in Edmonds for shiny small rocks and shells, and the soft plopping sounds as I dropped each shell into my plastic bucket.  Even broken shells would do!  I remember the relatives who visited every summer without fail from the Midwest. They loved riding the ferry, even if it were only to the opposite shore and back.  Often in the early evening, the women packed up a casserole, a simple salad, and beverages to tote to the beach where we’d spread out our feast onto wind-worn picnic tables.  My dad would join us once he returned from work. There we’d eat, laugh, talk and gaze at the gentle waves lapping the shore. We could also see the lines of vehicles waiting to board the green and white ferries.  

   I remember my early teen years when my girlfriends and I’d walk to the beach during summertine.  We’d spread out blankets, slather on cocoa butter, bake under the sun, and look for cute guys.  With a briny breeze against our faces, the warmth radiating up from the sand, and the occasional wail of a train that rode the rails paralleling the beach, we were happy Beach Bums for the day.  Later during high school, our crowd I often drove to the beach on warm summer evenings.  We built beach fires that scented the air with the salty smell of driftwood.  We strolled barefoot, feeling the gritty sand between our toes.  Later we huddled around the fire to toast marshmallows and solve the world’s problems--or so we thought. 

   My husband and I still visit Edmonds regularly.  Though my immediate family is gone, some friends remain, and it’s fulfilling connecting with them.  Yet part of our time is spent overlooking the beach and the ferry dock.  There we watch the ferry traverse the Sound, a reminder that some things remain the same... 

   But let’s leave the memories behind for now and look ahead to my next blog entry.  I’ll write about how to create evocative scenes in your own writing.