Thursday, November 24, 2011

Writing from Puerto Rico

I'm spending Thanksgiving vacation with my son at a mountain inn in Puerto Rico. It is beautiful, lush, fecund, mysterious. I've been able to write a scene from Bluffing is Murder amidst hikes and contemplations. I sit on the patio of our cabin and type away.

The road up to this inn is narrow, winding, and half washed out in spots. So I also drafted a short story. What if the road washed out, and the electricity went off, too. Suppose someone went mad from the dark, the ceaseless calls of the tree frogs, the too-close personal interactions? What if murder happened?

See how the writer's mind works? Happy Thanksgiving, dear readers!


  1. I had similar thoughts when driving up to a ridge in the Blue Ridge Mountains recently in a bright blue Mustang. My final thought was ... at least the car would stand out and they would find my body.

    1. I just saw this comment, PJ. So true! Thanks for stopping by.