One of the most helpful writers I know is a very accomplished lady by the name of Sandra Phinney. Several years ago, when I was struggling (*really struggling*) to come up with a workable structure for my book, Sandra invited me to her tranquil home in Nova Scotia so I could get away and think without interruptions.
As I ferried across the Bay of Fundy on my way to her place, I sat outside in the sunshine – salt wind in my hair, the cries of seabirds in my ears – and let my mind roam and drift through the storyline of my book. I could not remember the last time I had three full hours without something pressing to think about.
It was there, underscored by the rumble of engines and the splash of waves, that the seed of an idea began to emerge and later, sitting alongside Sandra’s river, I fleshed out a new structure for the book.
Sandra’s gift to me was the opportunity to get away, to talk with another writer (whom I greatly admire), to be cared for and fed (in more ways than one). I’m grateful for the chance to be a writer and an author, but the people whom I’ve met along the path are the unexpected treasures that I cherish the most.