Do you have a favorite to add to the list?

I had been speaking with my writer friend, Gwen Morrison, a brilliant author, editor and publisher, and my partner in the newest venture: Write by the Water: a writers retreat about the best place to write in our homes… something most people ask of authors at those Q&A’s after the reading, on the big book tour.

As suburban moms, we have both adapted a room in our house to act as office/writing space. A place where children and dogs come and go as they please, usually leaving us more interrupted than inspired.

I hit up my good friend, Mr. Google to see what he had to say what I typed in PLACES TO WRITE.

The writers at Wicked Writers had a list of 10 places to write.

I got a kick out of this one.

5 – From a Jail Cell: Well, not in reality. Whenever I can’t seem to find peace and quiet anywhere, the loner in me dreams of writing from a jail cell in solitary confinement. No Internet, no planning dinner, no vacuuming, and no teenagers not doing their homework. Ahhhhh

Novelist and Coach Jacqui Lofthouse suggests “going on holiday” is the best way to get any writing done. In other words, get out of your natural element.

She speaks of getaways in  Tuscany and the South of France, dropping uber-attractive nouns; villa, country-home… I like her thinking.

This article reminds me that:

Oh, yes. I like that. All you women writers now have a perfectly good reason to overtake the den.

And, yep. Even JK Rowling has something to say on the subject.

THIS IS where I’m going to be writing this fall.

In one of the spacious rooms, on a balcony, under a tree, on the beach, in a kayak…

You can join me…..  it’s easy. CLICK HERE for all the details. I’ll save you a spot on the sand.

I suppose we all have our runaway stories. My kids have both done it- or at least attempted it.
Not sure what that says about me as a Mommy.
Granted neither one of them got far, they were definitely missed and certainly the reason behind the attempt wasn’t taken lightly.

I know I had my share of runaway attempts growing up. The worst part was when I’d thought I’d runaway from home- had packed my favorite stuff, taken some food and a book, managed to stay away for hours and hours and hours… yet when I came home, no one had even known I was gone.
That sucked.

I remember that woman back in the ’80′s who holed up in her kid’s tree house saying she was going on strike- as their mother. I thought she was nuts at the time- especially when her kids lured her down with a plate of homemade brownies- but later, when I was a mother and a wife… I pretty much got where she was coming from and started wishing for my own tree house.

Sometimes, that’s what it takes. A strike. A packed suitcase. A white flag on a stick.

Like the 41 year old SAHM who picketed in front of her house in Indiana, saying she was unappreciated and wanted some help around the house… her point was made, even though she got a bunch of hate mail from single working moms and husbands who still believe in the barefoot and pregnant role of house wife…

( of course, you can’t be all crazy and do what this mom did. because then you have to go to jail.. and while that sounds like a bit of peace and quiet, I don’t know how many of you would be comfortable using that toilet… and no, I’m not going to tell you how I know about using the toilet in a jail cell. )

At any rate, know this. Thinking of running away is perfectly normal. Disguising a little runaway as a guy’s golf weekend, high school pal reunion, girls’ getaway or spa retreat is also acceptable.
AS long as when you return home, you want to be there, you feel like you’ve been missed and you are in a hurry to unpack and settle in.

Little Runaway Interlude

While packing for my recent writing conference in Florida, I did the three things any smart gal does: check weather.com’s extended forecast, choose the prettiest shoes, and bring lots of books. I was ready for some sunshine, as Atlanta’s teaser of Spring went from 60 degree days to 30 degree days and I hate being teased.
The conference was called Sleuthfest, sponsored by the Mystery Writers of America, the Florida Chapter and was geared to the detective/police/PI/thriller/suspense market… more suited for the novel I’m almost done with, not really the one I wanted to pitch, but the agent list was very respectable and I had at least one friendly face in Florida to look forward to seeing, an author pal who told me most of the business gets done in the bar. SO that was one thing I could look forward to. He also promised to show me this cool place. Vizcaya.
One of the statues at the entrance. Boob Anole extra.

Of course, I enjoyed the workshops, learned some new stuff, made some new friends, got the requisite author photos and signatures,
Big name to watch out for and a great guy, John Hart.
Super funny and talented Brad Meltzer, who taught me the value of giving.
did some shopping and went to the beach where we saw this guy catch a snapper, though he had no idea what kind of fish it was until someone told him.All the things you cannot do on the Pier. And now you KNOW I wanted to do them all.


Yes, it was a great trip. Fun times, good food, a bed to myself. Coupled with the fact that my reading of a chapter of We’re Not Waving, We’re Drowning was very well-received by my peers and I didn’t choke on pitch day, nabbing me two agent requests, while two others came in electronically. I also scored some points with a positive and encouraging critique of the work in progress. It’s always good to know you are on the right path.
It may have cost a bit of money, time away from the family, and the bitch of a delay getting home on blizzard day… a delay in a terminal where some guy almost died- when no one could heimlich the chicken sandwich out of his throat.
I am dead serious. That guy is going to have the sorest most bruised chest when he gets out of the hospital. Freaked me out. All I could think about was Palahniuk’s book, Choke.

When the people near me invited me to join them for dinner before we flew out, I declined saying there was no way I could eat after seeing what happened with that guy.
“Are you sure?” they asked, “We could bring you back some chicken wings.”
“Great,” I said. “Chicken bones. Thanks.”

So, to wrap it up, I’ll say this. I’m glad I went, though coming home in high-heeled sandals to snow drifts and my son’s Hooters Snow Girl was a bit unexpected.

Anyone who has spent any period of time with me knows I am stubborn- though I prefer to call it “determined.”
I knew a guy once who made his Queensland Blue Heeler attack a deflated soccer ball hanging from a tree on his farm in Southern California with a simple whistle command. That dog ran and leapt into the air, snagging the ball and clamping his jaws onto the scarred leather. His hind legs hung two feet off the ground as he spun in slow circles.
We sipped our beers and watched, waiting for him to understand his predicament and give up, until the guy said, “He’ll hang there all day. Once he’s locked onto to his prey, until it gives, he can’t open his mouth.”

I’m like that dog.
I’ve been swinging under the publication tree for seven years. It’s what I want and it’s what I’ll get. Sure, along the way there have been a fair share of hits and accomplishments for my short stories and essays, but my deflated soccer ball is the elusive book contract dangling from the branch of the perfect literary agent.
And after a few years of hearing, “It’s not for us.” and “Great writing, but…” my jaws are getting tired.
But here I am. Sending out the novel to a bulldog of an agent, another who wears pink and two secret links, continuing to hope for the best.

Hope you enjoyed that. Tomorrow I am off for sunny South Florida. Another writing thing.
will post from there… unless I am just having way too much fun and being MARVELOUS.

CODY, Wyo. – A man has been cited for public intoxication while riding a white horse during a snowstorm in the northern Wyoming town of Cody.

Police say they cited 28-year-old Benjamin Daniels after they received a call Sunday afternoon from a motorist concerned that a man was creating a road hazard by riding his horse on a street in conditions with poor visibility.

Cody Assistant Police Chief George Menig says officers noticed Daniels was intoxicated after they stopped him to explain that drivers were having difficulty spotting his slow-moving white horse.

Menig said Thursday that Daniels was detained Sunday and released the following day. He will go before a municipal judge later.

A friend of Daniels picked up the horse.

There was no telephone listing for Daniels.

Here’s the thing. I know I need to finish a few projects and I know I cannot move forward unless I stop getting side-tracked.. but I am so–Look, shiny!–easily distracted, that I need accountability. Not like this guy, though. And this seems a bit too therapeutic for me. Whatever would I bitch about? But something in the middle, like a list of short and long term goals.

Some people have close parents that act as their accountability- keeping things in check, motivating along the way, asking important questions, offering support and guidance. Some have adult children and some have good friends that serve the same purpose.
I’m sort of in the middle of all of that- I’m my own best friend, but I can also ignore myself for hours at a time, so I’m a sucky friend to count on.
I think this calls for some serious butt in the chair time. Forget Miami. Forget the white shoes. I’m staying home.

Ah. The view from this wide wraparound porch off the B&B was tough to leave.
Especially on a Sunday, when the town below doesn’t start serving beer or wine until 12:30 and won’t break out the hard liquor all day.
Gotta love those Baptists.
We managed to get along anyway, having drowned our potential hangovers in a four and a half foot deep hot tub at 2 AM until dark o’thirty. Girlfriends are great travel companions.

We wandered around the town seeing folk art like this
then sat in a cool stone house to hear people like thistalk about writing, books and characters. That’s Karen Abbott, Joshilyn Jackson, Patti Callahan Henry and Steve Berry.
We also met Mitchell Graham for the second time– a fabulous writer and truly a great all around guy with some pretty amazing stories.and this guy who rarely makes public appearances .. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because weirdos want their picture with him.. from odd angles.Of course we had a great time sipping wine at this beautiful placeand tossing back oysters, lobster and tuna at a funky oyster bar in town where we bumped into old friends and made new ones.
All in all a fantastic way to spend the last few days before the school schedule kicked in- for me the mom and for my friend, the teacher.