In Steinbeck Country

I’ve been in Monterey Bay all week enjoying a writer’s retreat hosted by my literary agency. I’m a long way from home in a lot of ways. Distance for sure, but not as long as some of the other attendees. One writer, Marion Stroud, and her husband are here England. They have been gifting us all week with their lovely accent. Of course, they say we are the ones who have the accent. Another writer, Cathy West and her husband are here from the Bahamas. From one paradise to another.  Me, I’m here from Kentucky – still a long ways by road or air. Took me all day to get here. Will take me all day to get home.

But distance isn’t the only way it’s a long way. I sit here now in the pre-dawn light when at home it’s mid-morning. The waves are crashing against the rocks outside my window. At home, I’d have to walk a ways to hear a creek running downhill over rocks.  Here, I have new and old friends, but no family. Here, I am among dozens of great writers, experienced writers, who are ready and willing to talk and share and give hints on how to improve. At home, all those writer ideas have to come from me.

This is Steinbeck country. He lived here. He loved the place and wrote about it in Cannery Row. Yesterday at lunch he showed up in his slouch hat and sunglasses while we were eating that fabulous dessert I posted on Facebook. Well, not really him, but an actor who pretended to be him and gave us his history. Writers always are eager to hear how our writers did it and he had a beautiful command on the language. Steinbeck, I mean. So we enjoyed.

I am enjoying. Great scenery. Great history. Great company. Today I have more opportunity to learn. I’ll share more when I make that looonnng trip back to where I belong – my home. My roots. That’s what Steinbeck had too. Roots here in Cannery Row.

Where are your roots?