Images of crisp air and seductive sunshine pervade my thoughts whenever I travel to the edge of the peninsula that is Pinellas county, Florida. I let myself be washed away, renewed, just as the small swells of waves here at this tiny little slice of writer’s heaven.
Freyr’s boar seem to watch me as I pour out my collections of observations, like silent and pale guardians of my written creations. The scent of petunias drifts to me, delicate on the breeze that sets the wind chimes to singing.
I find inspiration aplenty, people and cafes and nature…always nature. I love the way the sea speaks, the way the birds soar and dip on the wind, and the way I feel sheltered in my thoughts.
I’m not the only one who wanders around, absorbing all there is to absorb, and turning it into stories.
This is my own writer’s paradise. For some it’s a Parisian balcony above a swirling activity of city-dwellers, for others it’s a holiday cabin in the Vermont state forests. For me it’s right here: guided by the scents and sounds amid the laid-back activity of this little city’s inhabitants, watching everything for the three days’ time I’ve allotted myself over the weekend.
I love to listen, to watch, to think up stories in my head about the people, the place, the Nature all around this little tropical retreat.
And think up stories I have been doing. I’m playing around with short fiction and flash fiction, while tying myself to the computer and various notebooks with intentions and daydreams of writing an actual novel.
But for now, the short stories and my poetry fulfill me. The book is more of a pleasure for me; a way to keep writing and writing with no end or beginning clear to me. So for now, I soak all this inspiration in, and let it manifest within my words.