Grinding at the stump of ideas

We’re Frenching through pages, we’re thrashing along the shore, we’re grinding at the stump of ideas, we’re writing.  Each day, threading the needle and getting down to it.  Is that enough metaphors for you?  We read each other’s work, think out the storyline.  We ride the bike; yesterday it rained and we whipped along the curves leaning into the wind and wet coming back from the water.  I swam as far out in the heavy waves as I could, maybe forty minutes, and they were threatening to drown me so I turned back to the dock.  Some swims are two hours, but the writing calls me back.   When we first came here years ago, I would swim for three, four hours every day, but this is a writing retreat.  I swim seven days a week, we write seven days a week. While I swim, Mark drinks coffee, reads and writes.  The sun doesn’t set till 8:30 pm so we write until ten before we break for dinner of tomatoes, cucumbers and onions.  We eat the uncomplicated Greek food and write thickly viscous stories.

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Published in: on June 27, 2018 at 12:17 am  Leave a Comment  

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