I’ve been away this weekend and it’s been lovely. A writing retreat by the beach. I’ve written 2/3 of a 0 draft of a new picture book (a 0 draft isn’t even good enough to be called a first draft but it’s a start) and a preliminary edit of a non-fiction title. There was workshopping and mandatory silent times.

We walked on the beach at the photographer’s hour, just before sunset

And we weren’t alone. And you can see why. It was lovely.

Flowers everywhere

how brassy beautiful are these?

A tree stump does a fried egg impression.

It may just be true there was some chatting and some eating on the weekend too and perhaps a few late-ish nights. But that’s all part of it, isn’t it?