Saturday, July 26, 2014

Filling Up The Hot Hours Of Texas

I'm at the lake house.

It's too hot outside, so I'm stuck inside.

I'm kind of bored...which is rare for me.

I decided I should do a research post.

About what?

Well, I should probably work on my book.

A few days ago, I quit the whole idea. But just for a few minutes. Or hours. Then I decided to just delay the whole thing. I was going to start writing in October. Now I'm going to start a little later than that. I'll give myself more time for Australian TV on Hulu and more time for research.

Now I can't even remember what location I was going to use for my Melbourne people.

The good thing is I think I wrote it down somewhere....

Yarraville.

I'm not sure how much I need to know about Yarraville for my book, but I'll do some research anyway.

Shit. I thought I had chosen a street for my Yarraville people, but now I don't see it.

I do remember considering Oven Street. I'll probably just stick with that...for now, at least.

I'm looking at Google Maps now.

I'm going to use Street View to try and pretend to take a walk.

There's a little shop on the corner of the street. It has ugly graffiti, unfortunately.  Hopefully, that's been fixed since the time the picture was taken (January 2013).

There's a house that's either being built or is falling apart. I'm not sure.

There's a blue house that looks pretty interesting. I think it's 4 Ovens Street. Maybe I'll imagine one of my characters live there.  Which one?  I'll have to figure that out.

I have two families on the street—the Grants and the Merricks.  I think they'd live very close to each other—either next door or across the street.

My only problem is the houses look very small. And the Grants have four kids. Could they all fit?

Well, yes. I'm sure they can. A lot of people live in tighter situations.

Or I could be like a normal writer and stretch reality a little.

Would it destroy the universe for me to imagine the house is a little bigger than it actually is?

And it's not like I'm going to give out the address in my book.

I might not even mention Ovens street.

I have major issues here.

This is why I'd rather blog than write fiction.

Still, though, I AM having fun looking at Ovens Street.

But now I'm lost and stuck on Stephens Street.

I need to find my way back to Ovens.

Ah! Finally.  I'm back.

There's this strange house. I think it's 13 Ovens Street. It looks spooky. And I'm not just saying that because it's 13.

Wait. It's not 13. I just looked up the address and got another house. Unless they tore down one house and replaced it within a few years.

All right. The strange house is 12 Ovens Street. It's too bad it's not 13. Guess what the postcode for the street is....

3013.

Spooky house with two thirteens in the address. That would have been awesome.

I'm now walking further down the street. I'm trying to imagine a big family living in one of these houses.  The Grants have three boys and a girl. Would they all share a bedroom? Would the girl get her own? Would the boys resent her or that?

The western end of Ovens street looks really rundown.

Maybe I've given my families the wrong street.

Or I'll have them live on the eastern end of the street.

This house, 8 Ovens Street, isn't overly small. Well, at least it has a lot of bedrooms.  Four.  And two bathrooms. But guess how much it costs? $1,036,000.  Over a million dollars. It's shocking how expensive housing is these days. This is a small house out in the suburbs.

After you get to the end of Ovens Street, you come to Ballarat Street. There's a lot of graffiti on the first building.

The gray building across from it looks pretty cool. It looks like there's a horse in the window.

Ballarat Street has some retail/commercial stuff. There's a yoga center, and Thai/Laos cuisine.

There's a restaurant that might be...French?  I'm trying to read the sign.

Havsfrau?

Maybe that's not French.

German?

I'll Google.

Oops. I read it wrong. It's a Hausfrau, and it's a bakery.

Well, I think I'm going to stop here...for now.

Maybe I'll do more later.





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