Having travelled to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, on many occasions, I had clear ideas of how to write my book The Monarchs and what to include.
San Miguel attracts wealthy North Americans who do not want the party atmosphere of certain Mexican cities but who also want a temperate climate all year round. They are also attracted to the blend of both local and expatriate peoples and the town’s reputation as a revered art colony.
In parts of the book, I ridicule the aging North American population that has made its home in SMA but this should not be seen as offensive, seeing that I am becoming one of them myself.
Here is a snippet from the novel:
They walked into the Teatro Santa Maria with some tredpidation. They were there to hear a talk on the monarchs but they also wanted to avoid any interaction with the Whities who they suspected would be attending in droves.
They showed an expression of something like horror when they entered a buzzing, crowded lecture room.
“I thought all of these guys would have heard this lecture a million times,” Sharon said out of the corner of her mouth.
There was an eerie, noticeable awareness of their entering the room as at least one-third of the heads turned to acknowledge them. Countless white heads of hair bobbed up and down in greeting. Teeth smeared with errant paths of lipstick flashed smiles at them. Wrinkled claws waved half-heartedly. Leathery necks craned at impossible angles. People muttered to each other.
“Are we now the last pairing needed for Bridge?” Sharon asked.
“Just pretend you don’t know how to play.”
“Oh sure. That’ll give ‘em the excuse to stay with us longer so that they can teach us.”
The novel is very heartfelt, based upon actual occurrences. We can only write so well. We can live even better.