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Seven Days on Skokholm: Part Four

by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

The ground in front of me slopes down. There is a red painted stone marking the end of the path, which makes me laugh, because of course I’m not going to stumble down to the cliff edge, the sea crashing against the rocks a hundred below.

Seven Days on Skokholm

by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

If I had a week with nothing to do, I would write amazing words. I would write a book. I would write a million words and then dream the story while I slept under the stars and then I would write another million words and the faeries would come out and dance around me and I would make novels like the miller’s daughter spinning gold out of straw.