burning thoughts

Can you stand another post about my cabin in the woods. I’m not bragging. I love that place.

When I’m away from my computer (generally, working for the man so I can pay my bills), random thoughts occur to me about the stories I’m working on. I write them on little sheets of paper I keep close at hand for that very purpose. Then, when I’m seated before my laptop, I transcribe those notes into the files of my stories. I crumble the notes and throw them in the tall trash can beside me.

Somewhere I got the crazy notion that I couldn’t throw these crumbled notes away until I had filled the can with them. I had to fill it to the point where the crumbled notes would fall out if I tried to put them in. (Don’t ask my why. Something to do with feeling productive, I suppose. It seems stupid and obsessive, even to me.)

Well, I finally filled the can with my notes, and I thought that I should give them one last use. I could use them as tinder for one of the campfires I have out at my little cabin. And so I did. I carried a bagful of them with me on my last trip and I used them as the base for the fire. I built the teepee structure over them, and then I put a match to them. (Full disclosure: not a match but a lighter.) They obliged me by taking the flame quickly. But then something happened I hadn’t expected.

Some of the crumbled notes flared faster and brighter than others. I could hear the hiss of these bursting into flame above the others. Obviously, these sheets contained my more brilliant thoughts. There’s no other explanation.

The photo I gave you of the cabin earlier this week wasn’t very good. Here’s a more recent shot, taken more close up. It’s a tiny cabin, but it’s enough for me. I’ve spent many productive hours doing nothing on that porch. Notice, also, the retaining wall I’ve built in front. But don’t look too closely at it. It is wavy in places. I used empty wine and beer bottles as backfill behind the wall. Someday someone is going to discover those and think they know why the wall is wavy. (The truth is that it is really tough to dig in the Ozark hardpan with a pickaxe and a shovel — and my level of motivation — so I followed the path of least resistance in some places. Whatever!)

my little cabin in the woods

I’ve mentioned here a few times that little cabin in the woods I have down in the Ozarks. This is an old photo of it. I’ve made some improvements since then, mostly around the foundation in front where I’ve built a retaining wall and added a small garden.

I’ve done a little writing here, but the lack of electricity has hampered that effort some. Nonetheless, it’s been a good retreat for me, if only to unwind and decompress after the work week. And it has influenced my Fathers and Sons stories quite a bit. I’ve written drafts of four of them (and put one on hold) all set in and around a fictional family cabin in the woods. On Saturday I began the first story that was not set in the cabin.

I took this shot from across our little lake. It’s only about 200 feet wide, but I still had to have my little camera on maximum zoom. Inside we have two beds, several tables and chairs, some tools, and all kinds of picnic supplies. You can also see the nice front porch, which is a great place to sit and ponder the universe. I do a lot of that.

Everyone should have one of these, but in case you don’t, look me up and I’ll lend you the key.