The summer of 2008, I went to stay ten days in my girlfriend’s 122-year old cabin in a Mennonite camp. The place was deserted. When I crossed the threshold, I said, “I need a cabin.” The first five days were peaceful, yet uneventful. With five days to go, something clicked in me and my story just poured out of me like water. I could not type fast enough. I am not a typist. My forearms were tingling and then stinging from the strain of writing so much so fast. Five in the morning came regularly as I typed and said, “Lynnie, you really need to go to sleep!” But I wasn’t tired. I typed all night, each night, and finally made myself sleep when daylight came. Then I was up and at it again. In five days I had the first 89 pages, which barely changed in the editing process. I’d begun this story many times, but never had quite the right voice. When this one came, I knew I could see it through all the way to the end. “I need a cabin” became hunting for a cabin. I was on the phone with the bank. My friend Mark suggested a house boat. “Hmmmm… a houseboat? When I was a kid only rich people had houseboats!” I set about to find one and three months later, I brought up “Lynnie’s Vessel” to dock in my lake. It’s an awesome writing cabin… I call it my doll house… an RV on pontoons!
Leave a Reply