First couple of days in the cabin. This place is weirdly idyllic.
My three housemates work full-time and are gone during the day which gives me complete peace and quiet to write. By the time they get home, I’m ready to talk their ears off. Fortunately, they don’t seem to mind. If they do, they have doors on their rooms that shut. And lock.
I went for a walk down to the deli. I think it was about ten miles. Or maybe two. One? Up hill. Both ways. I think there was snow.
I inquired about employment at said deli and the owner told me, for sure, that I could find work there, especially when tourist season came around. Which is good because my advance should cover me for a couple of months but then I might need to crack down and take a job if, forbid, the writing isn’t paying my way. I gave the advance to myself, from my 401k. It was actually my whole 401k and pretty much equals the standard advance for a first novel that wasn’t written by a reality television star.
I would watch a reality show about colonists on Mars. I would pay to watch that show. Seriously.
My one of my housemates hangs drywall and his co-worker picks him up in the mornings. His co-worker is hawt. He’s my age – which means I’m too old for him. And that’s a good thing. I don’t need to be flirting in such a tiny little town.
This is one of my two-beer posts, thank you very much.