Several weeks ago I stumbled on a forest here in Belgium.
I’ve done a little research on forests before this. When writing, I always try to find some sort of an element of truth that can be included in my works of fiction. A story I was working on a year ago needed a forest, and as I currently lived in Belgium, it seemed a good place to start. There are myths, legends, and everything I wanted for the topic I needed. I was writing frequently, and then it fizzled out. The inspiration was gone.
This travel destination wasn’t a part of my research, or anything else interesting. It wasn’t exactly like stumbling through a wardrobe and into Narnia, so much as seeing a link on Facebook. Of course, how I found the forest isn’t the story here. The point of my little babble, is the stories, both how I came to be walking through the forest, and the story I was working on.
Enter Het Hallerbos. I tried to translate what it meant, but I only came up with ‘The Hallerbos.’
Most of the year, Het Hallerbos is a normal forest, with hiking and running trails leading you on a run through the great outdoors.
However, in the spring, this forest near Brussels explodes in bluebells.
There are sections where you can’t even see the green or brown of the forest floor.
It was like something out of a fairy tale. Of course, as that was what I was writing, this was the perfect inspiration. To be a writer, you need to write, but those words need to come from somewhere. It’s nice to get out and see the world so I can bring it home with me.