Getting my land legs back, foggy this morning after my first good night's sleep since last Friday and trying to rehydrate my chapped lips and hoping life returns sufficiently to my mind to start writing the story today.
I'll say one thing. There is something awfully sweet about sitting on a sailboat all night, in irons, with nothing in the world to do but stare up at the limp sails, waiting for them to stir and doubting they ever will. Rarely and wonderfully, the premium in the conversations on that dark deck was on lengthening stories, adding context and depth and detail and color.
The idea was to pass the time. Meanwhile, five total strangers turned into intimates who I feel I've known all along.
I'm just reeling with ideas like that, but I'd better save them for the story and link to it when it's published.