Big Fish, Prince of Mist, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, The Shadow of the Wind are amongst my all time favorite reads.
The feel of the extraordinary captured within the frames of reality (or sometimes just outside its boundaries) is what I often try to achieve in my writing.
When brainstorming these stories or wondering about one of its characters I’m in a particular mood. A mood wherein magic is more real, more tangible. If I was to describe this mood (and obviously I’m going to because I would be a pretty lousy writer if I didn’t try)
I would describe this like:
Having two glasses of wine on an empty stomach, being happy on a superficial level and wondering what would happen if #insert-idea-that-could-be-real-if-a-little-magic-sipped-through-from-another-dimension
(what if: you could sell your dreams but the cost is nightmares/ your father is the sea/you can control insects/there’s a ghost living in the garden shed/the statue on the town square cries every evening at eleven).
Maybe I drink too much (wine: preferably temperanillo/rioja or a really cold pinot grigio when the sun is shining).