Writing at the Spa
With pleasure I wrote down at the spa,
between dips in the pool, veiled in steam,
under a glistening sky—
a hedonist’s dream.
A jaunt in the sauna, too hot for me,
on a bright orange tube down a thundering slide,
in the FKK* whirlpool for those who are free,
on deckchair and towel,
with notebook and pen,
I wrote my story,
from beginning to end.
The story I wrote at the spa. The poem (attempt) I wrote this morning on the train. It is true: in that bathing paradise, while people wallowed and dreamed, I wrote an entire story.
You might conclude thermal spas are the perfect place to write. Or how about at a lovely desk beside a crackling fireplace? Neither are any good when faced with a blank page and a starved imagination.
My story first came alive in the train, on a bus, standing at a platform, riding an escalator, in another story draft that came to nothing…except that which is most important—food for the imagination. When I sat at the spa all I had to do was put pen to page. The rest took care of itself.
Don’t wait for the perfect time and place to write. If you do, you’ll be waiting forever.
By the way, 2017 is almost upon us. How will your writing year unfold?
If you’re looking for a big start, check out my short story boot camp in Vienna. I’m a tough coach—you won’t get to loaf about the pool, but you just might get to write your dream story!
FKK: Freikörperkultur or nudism