Sensual Writing

Barack Around The Clock.

My mentor says I have to write ever day. He says I shouldn't write from my head, I should write from my senses; I should write from the place that dreams come from. I don't actually know my mentor personally, I've just met him through his book, "From Where You Dream, The Process of Writing Fiction." His name is Robert Olen Butler and I doubt he'd take me on as a student if he knew that the first thing I noticed is that his initials spell rob and that if there is a mentor can there be a womentor? I'm not sure the Monkeymind can be disciplined, but I'll give it a try because I like writing fiction. Swell Veldt started with those two words and a story emerged. That's a big kick.

Meanwhile, straight from the mind of the monkey this:

We are off on our second road trip this week. Tuesday we drove to the beach, a place called Las Lajas where Ramon took the waters, Woowoo Charly read in the shade of a coconut palm, Gus made friends with the local dogs, and I contemplated the vastness of the Pacific while drinking Coronas because the whole scene felt like one of their commercials. Today we are off to the town of Volcan, which I think is named after a Saturday morning cartoon show featuring giant barbarians and small but heroic human children in search of lost civilizations with their dog Bob, but might also have something to do with the local volcano. We are in search of rare and exotic plants to put around our rare and exotic home and also the fiendishly hidden baby back rib place for which there is no map. Friends Sam and Judy will be acting as guides as they have actually been there on a previous trek and returned safely despite the giant barbarian threat and pal Bonnie will be along to advise on the plant thing.

And now the words that arise completely from my senses. I'm a little chilly. That coffee's good though. Think I'll get another cup.