Rioting in Greece

A writer friend sent me a link that has rent my fantasy world asunder.

Where once I dreamt of warm days on a poolside lounge, a teetering pile of books and the time to devour them in turn, interrupted only by the serving of cocktails and a daily massage, my heart’s desire is now a writing holiday in Greece.

The link was to Skyros writing holidays. The website descriptions – and sun-drenched pictures of happy holiday-makers I presume to be successful writers – are seductive.

…described by the Guardian as Number 1 of the World’s Best 5 Writing Holidays…offers writers, thinkers and dabblers the opportunity to learn from distinguished authors, share the joys and struggles of the creative writing process, discover their strengths and polish their skills.

Courses convene for up to three hours every morning. They may include group and individual exercises, feedback sessions, varying scenic locations and always camaraderie and fun.

The site quotes a succinct Angela Neustatter, of The Times: ‘Intellectual rigour, spiritual encounters and good old-fashioned rioting in the evening’.

A Greek island. Distinguished mentors. Evening riots.

I’m sold. Sign me up. Who else is coming?

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5 Responses to Rioting in Greece

  1. tamarahunter says:

    Pick me! Pick me!!!

    • ara jansen says:

      I always wonder if you would spend way too much time gazing at the scenery to ever write a word! Still looks amazing and I am constantly tempted. Can’t get to Greece right now but I’ve finally got a workable book idea so I’m off south later this month to spend a few days working on it. Maybe that’s something a small group would be into considering next year….

      • waxings says:

        Would love to go to Skyros with a group of writing friends and indulge in all things creative and riotous (and marvel at the scenery)! Good luck with the writing trip down south. Thanks again for the link Ara!

  2. william cannon says:

    The ouzo is opium based and I had too much of it one night in Pireus and it was not off to the riots, I was off to the tattoo parlor. Young then and immortal; I was the american greek god. I stood tall on the acropolis that night and issued a challenge to the world-bring it on! I never got the tattoo. At some point between immortality and the tattoo parlor, I lost a part of my life that I will never recover. I swore off the stuff- I took a pledge-a sobriety pLedge and went to church. I was cool for nearly a week while the ship was at sea. She dropped me off in Tuniz and it was that blond lebanese there that took hold of me and would not let go. Bring it on indeed. It was on!

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