Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Precious Village



I want to have my new book, Yucatan Timeout, published in time for Christmas. That means writing at a tremendous pace. I've never done that, but am curious as to whether by writing so fast I will be taking the intellect out of the equation, and allowing myself to write from the heart.

That would be wonderful, because it was a magical village I found, so full of love, where the telephone wires crackled in the rain, and families, holding toddlers, strolled the sandy square in the evening.


There are so many precious stories I witnessed: The new Pizzeria, where the pizza always tasted of mold, and the friends who, rushing into Cancun to sell time-share, paused for the morning ritual of cracking an egg into their car radiator to plug leaks. I remember how their wise old parrot would call to anyone who knocked on their door, and greet them in the woman's voice. "Come on in," it would say, with a Texas drawl. 

I should add a note to parrot owners: A parrot is a recording device. Knowing that, it is best to not have sex where the bird can hear, or you may be surprised by what it repeats at dinner parties!

Beyond the simple everyday life, I am trying to tell a story about how I put my life back together after a divorce. If I can show the way, with love and truth, of how I used meditation and forgiveness to rebuild, show how walking those simple streets, with the Caribbean on one side, the jungle on the other, allowed me to journey inward, without city distractions, then I will truly be a writer.