Week Two at artist colony

On a roll with the novel, despite lingering questions about whether it's any good. Always haunting me during first drafts, that's the terrifying part. The exhilarating part is waking up, like this morning, with ideas pushing to get on the page. And like other hours here, today will pass in a haze of words. 

Yesterday I had to change rooms, which was disruptive to my work schedule (as well as a pain in the neck, not to mention losing my spectacular view!) but I left the site and took myself and the Sunday NYT out for breakfast on the beach, bought fresh Gulf shrimp (they went into yummy shrimp scampi last night), then spent the afternoon reading through my 70 pages, tweaking and fixing. 

Ready to spend today on the next chapter! Only four more days here, but I think I might reach my goal of 100 pages...

Sound of the waves woke me

Maybe dreaming, I thought I heard a train. But it's the crazy wind and crashing waves outside my windows. I'm enjoying the sound, even though it's too dark to see the beach. Normally I would try at least to go back to sleep. But such is life at an artist colony that I know I can sleep later if I'm tired. All obligation is removed for awhile. 

What a night last night! Here at the Hermitage Friday readings are right on the beach! I mean, toes in sand. A heron and a skate both made an appearance too. It was a remarkable night, and a delight to share the sand with my fellow reader, the playwright Y York. 

My goal these two weeks--half over now--is to finish 100 pages of a new novel. I think I'll reach that goal, even as the plot, as they say, keeps thickening. This is a challenging one, in the best possible way. 

Meanwhile, here's the cover of An Italian Wife, published in September and already available for pre order!

Gotcha Day!

Nine years ago today, Lorne, Sam and I flew across the world to bring our Annabelle home. The geographic miles can be measured. But the emotional ones have no boundaries or limits. What a threesome we were, a family still stunned by the devastating loss of Grace three years earlier. Yet how hopeful we were, how bursting with love. They put that baby girl in my arms and I knew immediately I would slay dragons for her. Today is Gotcha Day. Today was our new beginning. 

Is it any good?

I am so happily writing. And writing. And writing. But is it any good? And why do I love this exhilarating feeling? Same one that got me into trouble my whole life! Jump off the cliff. Go with it. Hope for the best. 

Healing powers of the ocean

Third day here and I slept until 9:00!

The goal is to get that iron level up, and a day spent in bed reading and writing and watching the rain over the ocean seems to be restorative already!

I did do a reading last night at the fabulous Bookstore1 in Sarasota. A packed room followed by steak and spinach. 

Today, more of the same. But with the rain stopped I might walk on the beach at low tide and hopefully find some seashells. 

First day at artists' colony

Well, since yesterday was spent getting here--SW to Baltimore and then on to Tampa, picking up rental car, driving a couple hours, a stop at supermarket for supplies--today is actually my second day. (a shout out to Southwest Airlines for retrieving my beloved jeans jacket after I forgot it on the plane!) 

Arrived in the pouring rain. And the sound of rain and waves right outside my window lulled me to sleep for 10 glorious hours, after a welcome dinner of steak Oscar with the other fascinating residents and Hermitage people. 

Today: a morning of reading to prepare me for the essay I'm planning to write. A couple of hours to tie up loose ends on other projects. Then writing my novel. 

Oh. And staring at this:

Artist Retreat

Friends, tomorrow I leave for two weeks at an artists colony near Sarasota, Florida. I'll mostly be working on my new novel and an essay I've been mapping out in my head for a long time. Of course, I'm also imagining short stories pouring from my fingertips, and progress on something I've been toying with out of my comfort zone. But I can't describe what it feels like to have nothing to do but think and write (and stare at the ocean). How I miss my family when I go off to do this. But some of my best work came out of retreats at Yaddo, amongst others. And so I'm excited and hopeful and ready for warm weather. And of course to return with lots of words written, and eager to smother everybody with kisses.