Ahhh, retirement…I can’t imagine any place I’d rather be than living on a beach in some tropical paradise, hashing out that novel that’s been festering for a couple of years. The solitude and beauty of being surrounded by an abundant tapestry of plants and a staggeringly diverse wildlife are inspiring. Where better to fulfill my life’s dream to write a novel? Sure, I wrote and produced scripts for television a hundred years ago, but to write a novel, complete with pages of exposition, amplified by adjectives and adverbs (but only a few!) — that was my dream.
After almost ten years of living in Costa Rica, my husband and I have many tales to tell, which I intend to do as I document my journey into the mystical and sometimes torturous life of being an expat writer in this equivocal era of literary predominance.
For me, location is essential for my creativity to thrive, whether I’m writing or painting. But, and this is a big but, big enough to rival the likes of a Kardashian booty, I’ve discovered that toucans and palm trees are not the only ingredients to literary success and emotional bliss. Nope, not even close. Mainly because the human element is ever-present in its debilitating intrusions and often ego-centric needs, mucking up the natural order of life as we know it. Or, maybe I should say, life as I wish it could and would be. When will I ever accept the fact that Norman Rockwell’s world was a complete and utter fantasy, as much so as a Harry Potter book or a Star Wars movie?
As I sit on the patio at sunset, sipping a guanabana and coconut rum smoothie while mapping out a new plot twist, it occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, my life is far better than any of my projections about what Norman’s ideal life was supposed to be.
Whoa, just got buzzed by a toucan, flying at low altitude across the patio, tree-hopping from one guarumo tree to another to nibble on some seeds. This is what the Pura Vida is all about.
Judy Richter 