The Island

This is where I’m headed!

Every fall some of my writer friends and I go on an informal writing retreat here, an island just far enough out in Lake Erie to make us feel we’ve left the real world behind. We stay in a big, slightly moldy house with a great round kitchen table, a dining room that could double as a funeral parlor, and a deck that–fingers crossed–we’ll be sitting on a lot.

Here is where I’ll be  daydreaming, brooding and poking my lower lip as I think about my work:

This year a new writer is joining us. We’ll also, sadly, hold a memorial reading for Mary Louise Robison, a gifted, witty, generous writer and friend whose stories about growing up in Alabama tickled us all.  Mary always cooked for us at KI. She’d putter around the kitchen all afternoon. Tomato and peach soup–none of us will ever forget the year she made that.

Here are the famous in the neighborhood Glacial Grooves. They’re actually even more magnificent and imposing than this photo conveys. Geological heaven.

Kelley’s is the island my new middle grade novel is very loosely based on. My island is farther out in the lake, and what happens there is entirely fiction. But it’s going to be interesting to be there now, when I’ve just finished the new draft of the book. I’m looking forward to picking up a few more islandly smells and sounds, not to mention putting my toes in the water.