Escaping with Har Mar Superstar

So Har Mar Superstar (a.k.a. Sean Tillmann) has been writing on Salt Spring Island. How do I know this? Twitter. And why do I give a shit? Well, he is a friggin' superstar. But that's not why I've been living vicariously through his tumblr. Really, it's because nothing sounds better to me than escaping to a island to write for three whole weeks. But I can't. So instead, I follow Har Mar.

He took one of those Maggie O'Connell planes.

He has a totally enviable view.

And a sweet office.

He saw baby lambs.

And freaky shit.

And started a new band.

All in all, it's been a great trip for me--and Har Mar seems to be having fun, too. I bet he's made a lot of stuff, so far. New songs, new scripts, new plans. That's what I miss most about my pre-ghostwriter days. Making stuff. Well, making my stuff, as opposed to making other people's stuff and wishing I had time to make my own stuff.

I used to take writing vacations. There was that time I took Amtrak instead of Northwest back out to L.A., because I knew I was ready to leave Minneapolis for good and I wanted to write about it for a few days. I rode the Empire Builder with $17 in my pocket and two packs of menthols. Zoe made me a killer mix tape for the ride, which I still have, the one with her absentmindedly singing along to "Free Falling" by Tom Petty. I wrote and smoked in the observation car, and I met a girl who showed me dozens of pictures of icicles and one of her boyfriend, who wasn't with her on the train.

There was the time I checked into a hotel (with a few bottles of wine) to write because I'd read somewhere that was Maya Angelou's thing. I finished a play and watched at least a dozen episodes of Law and Order. That was fun. And the time I tried to write while camping with friends in the Ozarks. Yeah. There was a little too much partaking for me to get much done but play cutthroat rummy and eat from the bottomless pit that was Vicky's plastic bin of powdered mini donuts. That was more fun.

Sometimes I think just being alone for a few days would be enough, even if I didn't write one word of my own, because it would free me from the shining beacons of hope and promise that are my clients, and from my family and household obligations. And from that place of neutrality, I could write again. Make my own stuff.

Like Har Mar, superstar of Salt Spring Island. Dude gets it done. Seriously.

Happy week, oh loyal band of followers.

PS: If you want to listen to my current favorite Har Mar song, click here and listen to "Dope, Man." Better yet, download it. It's awesome.

PPS: Monster Fresh is trying to get Har Mar cast in Ghostbusters 3. Check it out. Better yet, if you're a fan, join the campaign.