I’m going on my first ever trip to Florida. I’ve seen pictures of the blue sky, the ocean, the palm trees and the enormous beach front hotels. It looks like the Florida of my imagination. I’m going there to vacation, to lie on the beach, to spend time with my friends, and to relax.
Relax? As a writer struggling to emerge from my 50 year old cocoon the notion of relaxation is as foreign to me as interest payments on my bank balance. I don’t want to relax! I want to be writing and creating and letting the world know I’m here and I believe I have something to say!
I’m not taking a computer. My desktop probably wouldn’t fit in my luggage. What’s a writer to do?
I write long-hand so all I need is a pen and paper, right? But what if I have no ideas? No inspiration? Last night the four short stories, which keep each other company in a dark file on my hard drive, called to me. Print us! Work on us!
So, voila! My Florida work is ready to go. I’m excited now to find some shade under a palm tree, to scratch and scribble and perhaps return with something that delights me. A week to write? Paradise.