It still seems a bit of a miracle to be here, in Puerto Vallarta, having left behind minus-12 degree temperatures and banks of snow. What’s even more miraculous is the little eagle aerie I’ve lucked into as a writing space. For once the gods smiled instead of frowned. My living space for the month is an open-concept hillside house north of the Rio Cuale, about four minutes away from Elizabeth Taylor’s former home, with open, breezy portals above, and a view of the bay below. Best of all, however, is the lookout, an 8x8 room at the top of a third floor tower, accessed via a couple of ladders and with a view of the entire town. It’s here I spend my days working on the second draft of Lake on the Mountain. It’s a bit odd to think I’m creating a tome about the dour workings of the Presbyterian Canadian mind while ensconced in lush tropical Mexico.
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