The Last Available Room on the Island (Whidbey, That Is)

Long, long ago—like at the end of February—I spent a GLORIOUS three days surrounded by authors, editors, agents, and publishers at the Whidbey Island Writers Conference. I learned a great deal about the business of writing and publishing while feeling the thrill of rubbing elbows with my personal celebrities—writers—such as Erik Larson , William Dietrich, Deborah Madison, Stephanie Kallos, Elizabeth George, Stephanie Elzondo Griest (wearer of extremely cool boots) and Randy Sue Coburn. At the end of each day, following the many seminars and speeches, writing exercises and recitations, my spirit was bolstered with the camaraderie that fellow (make that actually published) writers bring—while my head was packed to overflowing with ideas and inspiration.

Luckily, I was able to retreat to my homey B&B, with a quaint, peaceful bedchamber all to myself, where I luxuriated in:

Comfortable, fine bedding!

Fluffy towel(s)!



The finest literature!




Interesting antiques!

And De-luxe bath products!




My eyes rested upon the amazing water views!


Alas, my stay was only for two nights. But then, two nights with THIS nightmare-inducing toilet paper was enough:

For that fresh, clean, patriotic feeling--all day!

There’s nothing like it. At least, I’ve never seen anything like it. Fortunately, I didn’t have to SHARE THE BATHROOM with the other couple who was staying at the B&B; they decided to have a weekend in Vancouver instead. Whoever you are, nice couple, I thank you. Not that I would have minded sharing the toilet with your husband. But the star-studded TP? All mine! You woulda had to fight me for it.

Next year, I’m booking my room EARLY.