Jan 7: I’m going through each page of my manuscript combing every line for my editor’s neatly printed turquoise blue pen marks.
Jan 8: We sit crushed together on hard folding-chair seats, gobbling down every word our writing gurus say.
Jan 9: The little babies converse across the booth seat as we eat at the Corner Bakery this morning.
Jan 10: I watch the tiny leaves sway in the yard next door under a gray, gloom.
Jan 11: One loud jolt, then a short rumbling shake. Yes, a small earthquake but I don't worry. (And I lived to write about it.)
Jan 12: The waves roll in lazily; their whitecaps barely able to touch the shore.
Jan 13: A starling family hops around a small garden near the beach, their dark metallic feathers etched with gold specks.