One Writer's Place

Having survived the Bourne Bridge Rotary on the way here (what the...?), I am happy to write to you from the Edna St. Vincent Room at One Writer's Place. As most of you (my three loyal subscribers--Mom, is that you?)know I was selected to come here after going through the application process last year. (Do I get to put that under the "Awards" section of my resume?)

This is only Day 2, but already I must say this is the best idea ever, and I am so thankful to have this space to slog through First Break and let Paige tell her story. Thank you, Jackie Mitchard, for picking me and for providing this type of support for writers. You have inspired me to work towards getting a cabin in the woods where I can do the same for others one day. (Get that, honey, "working towards.")

An interesting venture, this debut novel thing, and sometimes there just needs to be cricket-chirping silence to do it. That's what there is here. I'm on the third floor, surrounded by evergreens and sky, with breeze that flows through the windows just enough to make it nice, but not so much it blows my papers all over.

On Day 1, I never left (butt glue). But today, lest I turn into a hermit, I drove down to Paines Creek Beach. My camera was broken when I arrived in Cape Cod, but some nice fellow down at the South Patriot Square Camera shop fixed it for me today and didn't charge me a dime so now I will go back tomorrow so I can show you this amazing beach. You can walk out a mile it seems and it is only three inches deep. When you look out, it looks like people walking on water. It's not a straight sandy beach, but is filled with wild grasses and a stream running into it. People sit in little coves or out on their own little sand islands. Not a wave to be seen. Truly unique.

Anybody know what's up with all the "we make our own ice cream" places on Cape Cod?