Vikings, memory, and writing

I was turned on this wonderful YouTube series where an expert in a field explains a concept at five different levels: to a grade school student, a teen, a college student, a grad level student, and a fellow expert.

Today, I watched the program on memory. (I always wished I was smart enough to study the brain.) One of the many concepts that I found fascinating is how memory isn’t merely a record of past events, but the impact it plays on decision making in the future.

As a kid, out next-door neighbours had a swimming pool that I spent every summer in. One of my earliest memories is being in that pool at about age 3 or 4, before I could swim.

Their daughter was my best friend and an older sister to me. However, like all older siblings who make shit up, she told me stories of a window in the shallow end of the pool.

I remember really wanting to find that window, but I wasn’t allowed to go under the water and even if a family member held on to me so I could duck my head under, I never managed to find it. (Believe me, I tried.)

One day, I was in the pool, holding onto the ledge in the shallow end. I either let go or my hold slipped and I went under.

And there it was. The window.

It was divided into four parts with what I later understood to be lead dividers. Beyond it, lay a cannon and soldiers with big bushy beards waging war against an unseen enemy.

One of the men, wearing this horned helmet, came up to the window and told me I had to go home. I replied that I wanted to come through but he wouldn’t let me, and I was really sad.

At that moment, my uncle (who’d been in arms’ reach the entire time) pulled me up and I was bundled out of the pool, wrapped in a towel, and brought home.

I explicitly remember that my grandmother was talking to my grandfather at work and told me to come say hi. I told him the story but my uncle said that I’d only been under the water for a second.

Which brings me to memory and writing. The deeper I get into my urban fantasy career, the more I’ve incorporated the idea of hidden spaces into it. I thought it was because I’ve always loved reading about them (thanks Narnia!), but it honestly didn’t occur to me until today, that this memory had any relevance beyond a wacky dinner party anecdote.

There it is. If you enjoy my hidden spaces, thank the Viking. Or my old best friend who after being made to “find the window again” for several days, admitted she’d made the whole thing up.

What memory is influencing you to this day, perhaps in a surprising way?

And if you want to check out my latest series with hidden spaces, dive into Magic After Midlife. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08S7V4ZC7