Like Papa

It is the Holiday season and a young man's mind turns to trout. At least, mine does.

It turns to murder,too. I've a great Christmas Noir underway. I'm quite proud of it but it is just underway. I'm planning on doing the full flight polish and sending it out. Someone will like it for next year.

Apart from that, we have Papa at left as a boy fishing Walloon Lake in Michigan. The family still has a cabin there.

I went to Bear River last year on Walloon Lake in Northern Michigan (we distinguish Northern Michigan form Upper Michigan.) Lovely place. The writing workshops were fine. Lots of poets which isn't quite my cup of tea. Most poets don't leave bodies about or shoot wives in bathtubs or - well. The is Mayhem and poetry seldom goes that far.

This year, I'm renting trout cabin on the Holy Waters for a week. Tea, writing, and fishing in the evening. Basic living: eggs, bacon (or sausage) for breakfast or maybe oatmeal and walnuts if cool. Turkey chili for supper. Ham and cheese for lunch or - if I'm off the bread - maybe turkey, avocado, hummus wraps.

I'll have the morning walk and maybe coffee at the fly shop. Then armed with anticipation for the day and the report of last night's hatch, I'll walk back and write. As Ron Carlson says: I'll stay in the chair. 

A few hours later when I could go on I won't saving a little for the start of the next morning.

I'll have the nap. Perhaps a long walk afterwards in the sunshine then home for a quick take on dinner. I'll have a taste before heading to the water for late day hatch. Then in near dark, a return for the remains of dinner, a Bushmill's against the evening chill, and a novel.

I'll spend some time reading about writing for the month before - a practice which I do not do when I am writing seriously because it leads me to a type of paralysis.

And now, vision pleasantly in head and inquiry to owner in hand, I'm off to write.

Think of something pleasant and go write yourself. It'll give you an excuse for new shoes when they call you to the podium to accept the award for best new wonderful bit of fiction next year. Smile, and write.

Mind the bodies. They do pile up this time of year. Family.