For the composition and writing of this or my other works, I did not prepare a draft on the wax tablets, but committed them to the written page in their final form as I thought them out.
—Guibert of Nogent (Memoirs, 1.17)
Even though it is vacation, one still wakes up at half past four, and in the quiet of the morning, one sits in the library at the small hotel, using the Salton Sea Atlas as a writing board for whatever scribbling one does in the morning. One settles into a daily walk along the beach after breakfast, usually in the wind and rain, but occasionally with a bit of sun. The rest of the day is spent reading or napping. It is very pleasant.
It is time, however, to return to town and pick up the strands of life that one has, for the moment, set down.