Poolside writing. Does that work? I thought not.

I was wrong.

It works. Just like writing in a café back in San Francisco worked.

I didn’t know. I always assumed I could only write within the quiet of my office. Until I hit a huge and seemingly indestructible block this summer, dumped in my brain by an absent muse. The result: I couldn’t write. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t live. It left me frustrated like hell and after a few weeks of brooding, I decided I needed a change of venue. I booked a flight to San Francisco, where a good part of the novel would be set, and hoped that if I couldn’t write there, at least I could do some research, walk around, feel the town, find good spots for my protagonist to hide.

I’ve journaled the results of that decision in earlier posts. I set up camp at the Café Francesco, my muse arrived, and my writing soared.


I moved on to Hawaii for the second leg of my trip (San Diego and New York to come). Being around my inspirational friend Kirsten worked like a charm. The writing didn’t soar like in San Francisco but I held a steady pace.

But then the writing slumped to a mere five words a day. If at all. I started brooding again. Cursed the traveling. Cursed my muse. Cursed myself. I had turned into my protagonist, who thinks she’s a good-for-nothing evil in this world (or was I just trying to get into the mindset of my protagonist, living a case of ‘method writing‘?).

At wits’ end, I set out for the pool. Took my laptop with me and hoped for the best. If the writing wouldn’t come, I could maybe take a refreshing dip.

But I wrote. I wrote two kick-ass scenes. A fight and sort of a reconciliation. Extremely slow but good writing. Thanks to the pool.


Or thanks to the Lono Tiki totem for good luck I bought…


DSC_3694 (1).jpg

The artist – Folau Tupou – carving my name in the tiki totem