The Remembrance of Then

The suggestion first came from my agent, Kay Collins, who strongly proposed I take myself off to Maine for a month. Work on the third book of my trilogy, Intimate Strangers, was way behind schedule, and Kay warned that the publisher was not happy that the completed manuscript wasn't in their hands yet. "Vanessa," she forcefully pointed out, "you are under contract, a very generous contract, I might add, and the due date is less than three months away. Now, what is the problem, are you sick or something?" Kay's insistent inquiry irritated me since I had always delivered on time - twelve full-length novels to date - but on the other hand I had to admit this one seemed to be a cause for worry. As an agent, Kay was nothing but the best. She cut me an extremely good deal for the three book series and I completely understood her reputation in the publishing world could not afford a slip up. My anger abated as I tried to explain. "No, Kay, I'm not sick. It's the book itself. I'm three-quarters through but seem to be stuck at a crucial point. Don't worry though, it's nothing a few days of hard thinking won't cure." "And that's what you told me a month ago, remember? No, Vanessa, this won't do," she continued, chastising me like a naughty child. "So, here's my plan, are you listening?" It was then she informed me, much to my displeasure, that she had booked me into The Ocean View Hotel in Maine for a complete month. "What?" I protested, angrily. "You've done what?" "Oh, don't sound so alarmed," she countered. "This is just the place for you to settle down and finish the damn book. It's early in the season so there shouldn't be too many people around to bother you, and it's kind of remote with gorgeous views of the ocean. I've stayed there a couple of times myself. There's a decent restaurant and bar which will keep you well fed and watered. So they’ll be nothing much to do but buckle down and work." "Kay, I just can't pack up and leave town for a month! I just can't!" "Well, figure it out, Sweetie, because you're all booked in and there's no refund," she offered, with a laugh. We finished the conversation curtly with me still protesting and her still insisting. After I'd hung up, I paced the room with a dozen different reasons why I couldn't go to Maine whirling inside my head. But the more I thought about her suggestion the more reasonable it sounded. A month away from all of life's distractions wouldn't actually be a bad thing. If I could get someone to take care of the dog and water my plants, then I really didn't have a valid excuse not to take Kay up on her offer. By the morning I was due to drive the fours hours plus to Maine I had secured the promise from my good neighbor, Jean, to take the dog and also look after the house. I reluctantly called Kay to inform her that I was, indeed, on my way.