Authors are frequently asked about their sources of inspiration. I often answer that inspiration comes naturally to me and that, sometimes, an external element revives it. What I wanted to talk to you about today is the very special story behind the names of some of the characters in L'ennemie de Sylfar, my first series.
I was lucky enough to get to know my great-grandparents well. Few people have this opportunity, I am well aware. Grandpa Ernest and Grandma Gemma. That's what everyone in my family calls them. All their lives, they have lived in the Bas-du-Fleuve. A quiet village, but animated by the passers-by. I have many memories of the house where they lived. All those Labor Day parties where we gathered to taste the corn from my great-grandparents' garden. The raspberries that I would gather in an empty margarine jar for my great-grandmother, but devour right in the garden. The back porch where Grandma Gemma's food stash was located. Her chocolate cake under the glass cover, which I never ate without drinking milk. Grandpa Ernest, sitting on the front porch, waving to all the passersby in the village. Grandma Gemma, the undisputed queen of the Skip-Bo card game.
So many times we went to this house. Every summer, in fact. And, to get there, it was from my point of view a very long drive. We're talking about 4 hours. I, who was always a quiet kid, would pass the time, look out the window, stare at the sun even though they said it was bad for the eyes, fall asleep, read... You keep yourself busy as you can, of course.
One of the times we went there, I had started writing the first volume of what would one day become L'ennemie de Sylfar. The way back was again quite long, and I was deep in thought. In my story, a group of thirteen men, called the Order's fighters, had just appeared. This meant that I had to find a name for each of them. I was stubbornly stuck, I just couldn't do it.
Then I lifted my head to look out the window. Moving at a good speed towards us, a large green sign indicated Exit 150: Saint-Hugues. Something clicked in my mind and I immediately took out my iPod to open the notes and write the name Hugues. I quickly straightened up to read the next signs. Saint-Liboire was next: a new name on my list. Saint-Valérien-de-Milton, too long, I only keep Milton. Saint-Simon, too common, let's change it to Simnor. Girouard Street, um, I prefer just Girour. Pinard Avenue. Yes, that's fine, Pinard. One by one, I added all the names to my file and finally got my Order's fighters as they are today printed and distributed across Canada and French-speaking Europe.
The house my great-grandparents lived in, the one from which I have so many memories, unfortunately burned down shortly after they moved to a seniors' residence. Grandpa Ernest passed away in July 2013, very shortly before the fire, but Grandma Gemma was still going strong. Her quick wit and quick thinking enlivened many conversations between her and me. I was fortunate enough to move close to her in 2020, and I was able to become even closer to her than I had been in my youth.
We talked every week, discussing everything from past anecdotes, to what was happening in our family's life, to our dreams for the next few years... Hers was to make it to 100 years of age and receive lots of gifts. Wisdom and simplicity were her virtues and her laughter, which unfortunately ended a few months ago, will remain forever engraved in my memory.
And even today, when I drive along Highway 20, I still have that little smile on my face. And memories in my heart.