For the next few days I will be away on a writer’s retreat, an intensive, an all-writing-all-the-time sort of deal—but with my son and no husband, so what this really means is time alone with my Toshiba next to a fountain on a Spanish-style patio after 8:00p.m., lit candle, glass of wine, sweet bubbly sounds and no internet—writing intensive. Also talking intensive as I work on my Moth pieces and cutting them from two weeks of blab to 1 minute only. I shall powerwalk. I shall expose my child to mountain trails and sandcastles and parks with terminally friendly dogs. I shall edit and cut. I will write. I shall not dream.
It also means GRANDMA and therefore solo powerwalks on the beach. The beach, Hendry’s in particular, never fails to inspire, remind (me of ideas and dreams), refresh and exorcise angst. I shall take full advantage and report back. Until then, Suck it monkeys, I’m going Bohemian. So Sorry. I mean, Aloha.