Kirk and I are at the tail-end of the most indulgent trip ever. A whirlwind adventure through Western Europe, culminating with our first “tour” experience1—where you leave all the planning and schlepping to others, and just show up when and where the leaders instruct.
We are currently staying here, where white-gloved porters greet you with warm, scented towels and your luggage is already hauled to your suite when you arrive. Last night, after touring a Tirolean wine museum and dining on veal and Valrhona chocolate, we found our bedding turned down, guest slippers ready for our tired feet (16k steps yesterday!), face cream and truffles waiting.
We’ll be staying in the spa city of Merano for a few extra days at the conclusion of our Backroads trip, and I was surprised and delighted (and somewhat terrified) to understand that the area is teeming with nods to none other than the object of my literary obsession, the Empress Elisabeth of Austria (Sissi, to her familiars).
Like a recovering addict finding herself unwittingly deposited at a drug and alcohol-infused party, my senses are jangled and prickly with yearning, anxiety and caution. The rabbit hole of ideas calling to me with its familiar, seductive lure: you know you want me …
As a book coach, I am often faced with the client question (particularly among my memoir writers), where to begin? Typically, I answer: Where the heat is. Follow your most passionate, most needling bit of unfinished business. Ask the questions. Listen to your body’s reaction. What lights up your senses? What scares, thrills, and stalks you?
For a decade-and-a-half I’ve pursued my lust for narratives involving the enigmatic Empress of Austria. I even devised a first-person blog in the voice of my beloved Kaiserin. My two young adult books about Sissi (I prefer the version of her name without doubling the “S”, but I have noticed it’s a red flag to those charged with tracking followers of a certain Egyptian Prime Minister), imagined an alternate reality in which a contemporary American teenager warns the Empress against marrying into the troubled Habsburg family.
Though my current narrative interests are diverse, my story passions seem to always find a way back to the idea of a crossroads wherein a female character struggles to find her way to her true self. (Bitterroot, my latest novel, follows Hazel in a quest for identity, for instance. And before that, in Faultland, sisters Olivia and Morgan confront long held jealousies in the face of literal physical upheaval.)
So that leads me to question whether my obsession with the Empress is more about a deeper desire to explore identity—particularly a woman’s identity—in the face of external pressures and expectations. Certainly Sissi, married off to her cousin Franz Joseph as a teenager, is an iconic example of a woman stripped of agency (not to mention bodily autonomy) by external demands.
Over the next few days, I’ll continue to ponder this question. Feel free to comment on your own literary obsessions below. Meanwhile, here’s another Tirolean Schloss for good measure.
We chose the popular Backroads folks. Specifically, The Dolomites multi-adventure tour.
What an amazing vacation, Suzy! You make it easy to imagine being there. My story passion is the same as yours—it somehow boils down to that no matter what my characters are fighting through or for on the page. Thanks for provoking these thoughts and sharing your trip with us. Enjoy!
You deserve the indulgent trip, Suzy. It looks amazing.
Why is the Empress of Austria giving me Liv Tyler vibes in that painting?
I don't know if this is so much fire/obsession as much as coincidence, but rabbits keep popping up in all kinds of things I've encountered lately. Photos, articles, random social media posts, etc. And since I love folk horror, they might hop into a project somehow.