The coffee machine clicks off behind me. Outside, a gull cuts across the horizon and the air, a mix of seaweed and another guest’s toast. My notebook is still open from last night... that unfinished paragraph waiting for me to catch up to it. For the emotionally-frazzled novelist just one metaphor away from a meltdown; these writing retreats might just save your draft (and too, your sanity). I like recommending products or experiences that align with the themes and values of

Anyone that is but Fredric. He was back to watching me. His head tilted. Always that little tilt as if he's lining me up for a portrait....

Whatever it is you couldn't knock this man's confidence. And confident he is. Fredric introduces me to the lady seated on my left with...