We wrote, like prisoners on weekend leave from our city lives, shared those freshly written words, learned about each other’s writing journey, and laughed til’ the tears ran and our bellies ached.
On the discussion table were active versus passive verbs, creating believable, strong character voices and building great stories that tickle our readers’ curiosity and grab their intention the moment they read the first line of our novels.
We mulled over Gabe’s overuse of the dash, Mel’s love affair with the semi-colon, and my addiction to the comma.
Our brain breaks consisted of walks through the cottage community of Ponemah, Manitoba, where we poked around a handful of derelict cabins; our writer's minds buzzing with possible reasons for their abandonment. (It was Candice’s idea. She’s an instigator. There’s always one in every group.)
This year we were down in numbers and those missing Anitas were toasted by candlelight, as we made a pact. Same time next year Anitas. So, clear your calendar, dry-clean that musty sleeping bag you've tucked away in your garage, and prep your kids and husbands. There are words to be written, country air to be breathed, and cabins to be trespassed.
Only 363 sleeps to go.