Jillian Chantal

One of the problems with writing the stories I love to write is the number of scenes that have to occur on an airplane. You can’t do international plots without some type of travel to get there.  The good news about planes  is that if you’ve been on one commercial jet, you’ve sort of been on them all.  Easy to describe the scene.  Most readers know of whence ya speak.

 One downside is that Lears and Cessnas, the usual suspects when it comes to private planes are more individualized. New descriptions are essential but sometimes that’s hard, too. I  mean, really, how much can  you change leather seats? And the smell of leather is lovely but it is unchanging.

One other good thing about scenes in planes is the intimacy factor.  There aren’t many more places more intimate than sitting by someone for hours on a plane. Trust me on this one. Sat by a dude from Nigeria once that thought spraying himself with a potent perfume every twenty minutes was a good substitute for his bi-weekly bath. Can you say Ugh?

So, I’m getting ready to write yet another plane scene. This one will be fun (insert evil cackle here) as my girl will be humiliated more than she already has been from being in a jail in a foreign country. I know you may be asking what could Jillian think of that’s more nefarious than the indignity of peeing in public in a holding cell but trust me, this is worse. At least in our heroine’s mind. This is the event that threatens her fragile hold on her self possession. Doesn’t help that the hero is the one she has to go to for help. No, doesn’t help at all.