This weekend, I was lucky enough to spend hours and hours focused only on writing. For my birthday/anniversary, my family gifted me with a weekend on my own, and I gotta say, it was the best gift ever.
I drove about 2 hours (listening to David Sedaris’s Theft by Finding on the way up and Stephen King’s On Writing on the way down) to Percy Quin State Park in McComb, Mississippi. The cabins are a bit older–and cheaper–than the Louisiana state parks with fewer amenities (no bathtub, no microwave, no Wi-Fi) but I pretended I was roughing it.
What I did have was A/C, a screened porch that overlooked Lake Tangipahoa, and a massive table where I could spread out all my notes, plot diagrams, cups of tea, and my computer.
When the sun went down and my brain was wiped, I finished The Mysterious Benedict Society (hooked!), started In the Shadow of the Sun (plan to review it soon), watched the Manchurian Candidate and Gaslight.
If you’re ever looking for a gift for a writer–especially one who’s a parent–a weekend to herself will earn you a spot in her heart forever. Thanks, family!
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