Finally home.

I know I said it just a few posts earlier, it’s all about the journey and not the destination.  Fuck that.  The journey sucks.  Traveling is the absolute worst and the destination had better be nice to make all that waiting and inconvenience worth while.

Now, when it comes to storytelling, THAT is all about the journey.  When talking about my trip, there is a huge ridiculous and frustrating story about getting there.  There’s a small and equally ridiculously story for the travel home.  It’s the kind of shit that you can’t wring into a novel or a movie, because it’s too stupid for that shit to happen in real life, but it actually does happen in real life which is super frustrating.  The destination?  There’s no a damn story there.  I read two and a half books.  I sat in the sun.  I drank in the pool.  I wrote 66 pages of a new novel.  There’s no drama there.  It was deliciously warm.  The drinks ridiculously watered down.  The hot food was cold and the cold food was warm.  It was your typical resort stay.  

I had a great vacation.  I left the resort feeling quite relaxed.  We really need to figure out teleportation though, because travel sucks.  I was contemplating going to a volcano in Costa Rica in the fall, but travel.  Ugh.  It’s a four hour bus ride there… after who knows how long to fly there.  

Writing is going swimmingly.  I’m in love with my characters and the surprises I’m holding in store for dear reader.  And, as I said on instagram, don’t ask me what it’s about.  I’m going to answer, “I’m not at liberty to say”.  …. it’s that top secret.

Bonus pic. This may be my favorite photo from vacation.

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