Well, I had a good weekend. I went here.
The sister of a family friend lives on the York River--right on the York River, as you can see--and when she heard I was a writer, she called me up and offered me the use of her family's guest house as a writer's retreat. Wonderful! Sometimes people are just too nice to be believed.
It was a fabulous way to spend a day and a half away--I had the guest house to myself, but an open invitation to hang out with my hosts. I only stayed overnight, but together, we hiked around and played with my hosts' little great-niece and watched the sunset and messed around with the telescope, and then I got up this morning and watched the jellyfish (big red ones!) off the dock while I ate my breakfast.
I even got some writing done in between the wide-eyed exploring, if you can believe it. Laying the groundwork for the pilot I'm writing is proving really hard--I thought I'd be way into the dialogue by now, but I'm still pushing through what happens and when--but I got Acts I, II, and V plotted out over the weekend. It was good to have a place to sit down with this story in a place where my life isn't staring me in the face. I'm so grateful for the time and space, and you can bet I'll be taking them up on their invitation to come back--if I don't tell them and none of you tell them, do you think they'd notice if I slowly moved my entire apartment into the cottage? Shhhhh.