My Fictional Dream Town

14 Dec

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I want to live in a small town.  Population 3,000 or less, please.

I want it by the ocean, too.

Oh and it needs to be charming.  That’s a given, really.  I want there to be all sorts of weird, kooky small town things so ridiculous and so specific that you can’t keep up.

I want to try anyway.

Like the breakfast burrito place?  It serves soup, but only on Tuesday and only if you know the owner.

And that bead festival?  It’s a real, important thing and yes you should actually dress up.

My Fictional Dream Town also has a thriving arts scene.

It’s liberal, of course, with a protest corner, preferably.

It has a strong sense of community and no need for addresses and a rich history of artists and poets and creative people who live there.

There’s a school, naturally.

The school’s mascot is something absurd and historical and story inducing, even more naturally.

There’s a French bakery on the corner, run by two Parisians who fled the city for a quieter life.  People drive for hours just for their chocolate croissants and the owners are good personal friends.  Perhaps neighbors.

Yep, now they’re neighbors.

The movie theater is drive-in only, obviously.  There’s also a local theater scene, one surprisingly robust, and unsurprisingly wacky.

There’s a flea market and antique shops and other things Gilmore Girls-esque.

The mayor is Clint Eastwood or Doris Day or other things Carmel-by-the-Sea-esque.

Oh!  And it should have a stupidly cute name.

Like Carmel-by-the-Sea.

Or Capeside.

A name that would make a writing professor shake their head and say, “That’s too on the nose, that name is.”

I run the book club.

My husband runs a local business.

Or maybe he doesn’t.

Maybe we both are creative types doomed to a life of unsteady paychecks.

We definitely watch the sunset every day, in either case.

And there’s definitely a library in the thatched roof cottage I buy with the money I earn from the books I write from the stories I tell–

In this fantasy, dream life of mine.

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