Weekend Prompt from Portland

Born out of lunches and strolls.

Hi friends.

I’m still in Portland, working in the mornings, playing tourist in the afternoons, wandering through rose gardens, going to vintage stores, looking at old things, insisting on saying hello to people on the street because I can’t break the habit. I’m just going to give you a morning greeting as we pass by each other, even if we’ll never see each other again.

Mostly I have been on my own these past few days, until some friends arrive in town, and also I have a workshop to teach, and a reading to give, tonight. I’ve been getting up extra early, going to sleep early, too. A strange kind of vacation when you stop talking to people for a few days and just read instead. There is always that initial stimulation when we go somewhere new. We want to try all the things, be out and about. But I fall back into my old habits after a while. When solitude feels good and clean.

Still, I appreciate the time I have had with the people in this town. Everyone I know is big-hearted and focused on having a nice life and being a successful artist. It’s nice to be around that kind of energy.

When I had lunch with Chelsea last weekend we talked about all the things that writers do at these kinds of lunches. Money, the publishing industry, our time, our triumphs, our complaints, and then we spend forty-five minutes lovingly describing the plot of our new books.

I realized this morning that one thing that came up in our conversation might be an interesting writing prompt for us for the weekend.