The days when I sit, staring out into the empty space before me. I can travel across the state the country or the world. Sometimes I just mentally go to my favorite place: the craggly seaside coast. A bar harbor town. Nestled in the crook of the cliffs, a lovely cottage where I write peacefully. Pecking away on an old fashioned typewriter. Spewing out murder mysteries while cozied up with the smoldering warmth of the old stone fireplace.
No, its not about being famous, its about being content. With my surroundings, my work , myself and my God.