If I had my way, I would sail off to a little island somewhere and write. For a week. A month. Two months. I'd miss my husband and my boys, of course - but I would gracefully suffer loneliness for my art (I say that with tongue in cheek). At the end of it all I would have this beautiful piece of work completed. A world I created. People I breathed life into. Events where I pulled the strings.
It would be like:
The Last 100 Pages Boot Camp.
Or, The Biggest Writer.
Or, The Amazing Novelist
Sadly, none of this is going to happen, and I know that (unless we win the lottery). So, I will continue to be the sporadic writer, grabbing little bits of time when I can.
In the meantime, this writer will continue to dream a little dream of that romantic place and days spent like Thoreau.
