I have a book to finish that is in piles all over the place. This book is about Paris.
I won't go into why mine is going to be different...
I will say it is fabulous. It is charming as hell. And it'll never see the light of day if I don't DO SOMETHING.
So I have, as the picture implies, run screaming to this quiet place to pull the book together.
This place is Midwest countryside heaven. Green. Firefies at night. Thunderstorms. Fragrant. Quiet. A babbling brook. Deer running through the back. No kidding. Cows, okay? Dairy Queen is THE place in town.
I've left Southern California heaven. Blue ocean. Palm trees waving. Bentleys all over the place, coming out from the mothballs, I guess, because is anyone actually buying them these days, even if they could? Taco stands. There is a Dairy Queen, but it's kind of a cute thing, not to be taken seriously.
And it is the place where my life lives--
Lives are distracting, so here I am, a Californian in Illinois, trying to write a book about Paris.