I’ve been working on this novel….
In Chile, I sent occasional missives about life south of the equator; did something similar during our time in Costa Rica. A few friends egged me on: write more, they said.
But I’m a serious writer, I thought. Aren’t novels light (other than those by Russians, I mean)? And, isn’t ‘fiction’ another way of saying ‘not true’? In any event, I figured out some good ways not to write a novel.
Then Sue hosted a salon, where some friends gathered to read stuff they’d written. As a lark, I knocked out a piece for the evening. To my surprise, it was a hoot and a half to write. During the next few days, I expanded; a month later it was long; a few months after that, it had become a story about people who mattered (very odd, how can fiction evoke compassion). And now I find myself close to having this novel printed and available for others to read (there’s an excerpt on the Playa Perdida page). Kinda excited about that, too.