My housemate blogged her experience about joining my writer friend and me for one of our weekly or more free-write sessions. We had enjoyed a breakfast at La Noisette after taking up our customary position in the window on the right so we could see our targets/victims/bodies.
When the Tramontane isn't blowing and the temperature is high, we might be found at any of the tables outside, but this day was too cold.
She explains how we select the topic and the fun is seeing how three people take the same subject and what they do with it and reproduced our three exercises.
My housemate edits my work and very well, too.
She says she isn't a writer.
She's wrong.
She can write which doesn't surprise me because she's good with words in three languages.
If you can read the three stories about the woman in the raincoat and scarf leaving the church after early morning mass.
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