In the light of day, we took Chris back around the house and grounds, a tour we never seemed to tire of. He was duly as impressed as the rest of us. After all, we’re sharing the same physical space as Rudyard by-god Kipling. I mean, wow.
Since Chris and Matt are smokers, we ended up on the porch for a few hours total during the day, discussing stories, philosophies of writing, styles, schools, and rules to live by and also to break. We also talked about Buffy and Firefly, comic books, fantasy and science fiction, weird things that authors do, Kipling, Burroughs, told artist and writer anecdotes, and tried our hardest to out-story, out-laugh, and outdo one another. Stories were read and critiqued, some with a gentle savagery that I know I dearly missed.
Part of my day was spent getting a massage. I picked up a knot in my back prior to traveling, and it did nothing but get worse as the week progressed. I woke up Friday with real problems (sleeping in Not-my-own-Bed) in my mid- to lower back. So, I found a
In any case, I got back to the house in time to polish a chapter and then we settled in to eat, discuss, drink, read, and critique. It’s been heavenly. Matt made pork tenderloin with vegetables and it was awesome. We’re eating like kings and debating like warrior poets.