Another way to tap the power of imagination is through place. My own background as a writer is rooted in nature, having grown up
reading Henry David Thoreau, Rachel Carson, and John Muir long before I ever dipped into Madeleine L'Engle, Lloyd Alexander, Ursula Le Guin, E. B. White, or J.R.R. Tolkien. My early writings were really nature journals; at nine, I wrote a complete biography—of a tree. (It was a once-majestic chestnut tree not far from my home.) So it should come as no surprise that I view place as much more than just a setting for a story. It is, in truth, another form of character, no less alive and complex, mysterious and contradictory, than the richest character in human form. What does this paragraph imply about the way the author would treat the setting in his work? The author does not think the setting or place of a story is important. The author thinks the setting or place is the most important part of a story. The author does not think the other parts of a story are important. The author thinks the setting can influence the story as much as characters can.
If you have money to spend after paying taxes and all expenses, you have spending power according to the amount of money you have left over. A tourist with spending power has money to spend after all travel expenses are paid or accounted for.
