Hello
from Atlanta,
For
some of us, the reality of our lives is more astounding than any fiction
that we could write. You
know that has happened to you when you find that you can’t relate the
details of your life and be believed, so you keep quiet.
If
you are a writer, as I am, you finally come to a point when you have to
open yourself up, if for no other reason than to grasp a better
understanding of it yourself. That’s
when you write fiction.
the
woman who was the corridor is fiction, a novel, but in reading it you will find a bit of
yourselves, a footprint here or there of truth, and a whiff of what is
happening now, right under your nose.
In doing so, I hope you also find yourself in another world, a
world I know intimately, down in the woods of Louisiana where you can
almost hear your own heartbeat above the buzz of the cicadas and
mosquitoes.
There
are alligators in some of those swamps and various other creatures, some
two-legged, with mischievous intent.
You’ll meet a few in. . .
the
woman who was the corridor.
Five
years ago, two people from Houston, Texas, agreed to meet me down on
Hurricane Bayou in west central Louisiana. 
We had met there often, the four of us.
My husband and I would drive over from Atlanta, GA, now our home,
and the other two would drive up from Houston.
One of our guests is a fine psychological therapist and co-owner
of a science and technology corporation.
The other is a scientist who works with NASA and who is also a
professor and excellent mathematician who has published many papers on
space theory and other concerns of his.
In
1994, we had been meeting a few times a year for four years, so we had
come to know each other very well.
For the most part, we all just wanted to escape city life for a
few days and go fishing. As
a writer and artist and forensic photographer, the break for me was
especially rewarding.
At
night, after dinner, we four would sit out on the deck under the moon
and eventually fall into our favorite conversation that revolved around
quantum mechanics and the puzzle of a multidimensional universe.
Some very strange things had happened to all of us, and confiding
in each other, sharing our thoughts and working out the mystery had
become a good part of our time together.
On
that weekend in April, 1994, that conversation led me to reveal that I
had begun a novel on the subject and I had to tell them that it was the
result of the many hours of conversation I had shared with them.
Absolutely none of us would have thought, at that time, that I
would work constantly on it for the next five years, or even begin to
comprehend the miles I would travel and the strange paths it would lead
me down.
It’s
been quite a journey, enjoy the read.
Best
wishes,
Tannie
R. Meador
