Faux European statue peeing into the saltwater pool at Petit Amour on San Juan Island overlooking the San Juan Channel
One of the games we play as writers is telling stories, because everyone has a backstory even if you don’t know what it is. The women in the Mercedes convertible in the ferry line ahead of us must have had some story and for all I know the bottle of rose they keep waving around will be the key player in a night of debauchery on a Roche Harbor Yacht or a sedate evening at a rental cabin. But really, which is more interesting?
Houses are characters in their own right, especially rental cottages originally built to create a private oasisreflecting their own idea of peace and comfort. But who are these people who have built a multi-decked alpine style retreat with overtones of a European statue garden into the beach cliffs of San Juan Island?
Were these conscious choices made or did they win a lifetime supply of mirror tiles through an raffle drawing?
Or were members of their family once prisoners behind that great German wall and are determined to exercise their creative freedom in forever memory of when it was taken away?
The story is all about taking the pieces that resonate, twisting them until they sparkle and weaving them together with believable threads.
I’ve heard writers say they never go on vacation because why would you when you have a job you love? I think its more because as a writer, you simply can’t stop. The waitress at the restaurant has a story, that one buoy roped with kelp bobbing stoically in the San Juan channel is where something has ended or begun and I never know until you tell it. And then there’s tise view. I could write for a lifetime trying to capture this view in words, never succeed, and never considered the time wasted.