Sand in the Seat-Of-The-Pants-Draft-One

Ten things I learned about writing while vacationing on the beach:

1) Hearing The Police sing "Everything She Does is Magic" while editing helps to get into the vibe. Hearing it repeated on a ten-song soundtrack piped out through the pool's Bose speakers beats that vibe to a pulp.

2) During wind advisory beach conditions, the best page of your manuscript, along with your red canvas umbrella will take flight. Fellow beach-goers will either find themselves inspired by your words or get a paper cut Mary Poppins-style.

3) Drinking a Blue Moon on draft with an orange wedge while re-reading your manuscript will only make Margie Lawson's Deep Edit notes seem like that senior college course, second semester, you abandoned for Spring Break in Mexico.

4) Through the veil of sunglasses, lacquered with SPF-30, the crystal clear resort pool looks infinitely more appealing than the dialogue you've highlighted in blue.

5) Too much sun and the forty year old in the Speedo near the wet bar transforms Faulkner-esque prose into snippy, staccato sentences where people die.

6) The most under-utilized sensation you've yet to use in your writing is the sand slipping away beneath your feet as the waves recede into the ocean.

7) Sandpipers run faster than you'll ever type.

8) The fog rolling onto the beach at 4 am feels just like the masochistic day 29 of NaNoWrite.

9) The stranger next to you on the plane will always read what you've written. Always. And nothing kills a creative flow faster than a meaty fist clinging to a Filet 'O Fish on a turbulent ascent.

10) The Rastafarian at the Head Shop, no matter how authentic he smells, would always be considered by your critics to be a cliched character.