The great thing about being a writer, even an obscure one like me, is that you can turn any sojourn into a writers' retreat. That's what I did today in Manitou Springs. I packed up a backpack with writer essentials: my pencil case with my best pencils and sharpeners, a tablet (I prefer the Cambridge grid), a few books to inspire me, and some change for a coffee.
First, I stopped in at the local indy bookstore Black Cat Books. It's a tiny little space in an historic shop front with probably not more than a two hundred volumes on the shelves-- a mix of new and used with a really good selection including a section for Colorado authors. The best part of the bookstore was an antique free standing bookshelf that had a wonderful curve at one end. The shopkeeper said it had been imported from China, and they had hauled it around with them from place to place for years. Although it was an awkward acquisition, it was worth the trouble of keeping it around because it was such a beautiful home for a collection of books and I had to agree.
Then I wandered up the street a ways to Hell's Kitchen Pizzeria, where I had a slice of wood fired Veggie pizza, and finally I settled down at Marika's Coffeehouse for a read and a write. There are lots of souvenir shops in a place like Manitou Springs, but I find I can't buy anything that means more to me than a paragraph I've composed while taking in a new place. I overhear conversations that turn into the opening dialogue of a story and see scenes through a coffeehouse window that turn into settings.
I wrote for about an hour. Then I packed up my things and headed back to the motel, pausing for a few minutes at a Manitou Springs Library park bench to take in the afternoon sun.
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