For years, my daughters and I have been eating peppermint stick ice cream at Cassie’s Corner in Greensboro, Vermont, while admiring an immense red barn just across the side road. Who lives there, we wondered?
This sun-filled afternoon, I was lucky to sit with a group of women who had all read my novel and asked stellar questions. What a gift for a writer. Often, I imagine myself straddling the outside ledge of a cupola, my fingers hardly holding a grip, my toes clenching a ballpoint pen, while I fervently ponder plot and backstory and spy on passersby. The truth is, maybe I just need to get out more.
Many doors have opened to me via Hidden View, but to sit with a group of smart women, talking about craft and literature, is an especially savory bit of summer. Who knew open barn door would reveal such a stunning view of the lake – and couple that with conversation? – terrific.
One has to be just a little crazy to write a … novel. One must be capable of allowing the darkest, most ancient and shrewd parts of one’s being to take over the work from time to time.
– John Gardner