In a long-past-due-because-of-the-pandemic-trip, we set off with great excitement – but I soon realized the biggest problem I have while traveling is starting my day in the way that makes the rest of my day ‘feel good’.

I like to complete a Morning-Write before the rest of the day gets in the way.

That means getting up early, putting in three to five hours of writing or rewriting and see the page count tick (slowly) upwards.

I use Rudolf Nureyev, the Russian dancer, as inspiration. He is famous for saying that his body was so tuned by his work-out habits that if he did not dance every day, he could not think or love or walk.  Or something like that.

I can’t ballet a lick – and I was actually asked to leave a late-in-life class because my leaping across the floor was not pretty at all.

But Nureyev remains a fav because he was so damn dedicated. He said, “My feet are dogs,” when he was unhappy with his work.  I say “My fingers are sticks” when there is no connection from my brain to their activity.  Nureyev also said, “You live as long as you dance,” and I try to adopt his attitude to my time at my desk. Putting story ideas, characters, dialogue on the page makes me like life.

So what to do when traveling?  In Portugal (where I was five weeks ago) there are no 24-hour diners or coffeeshops that open at 5 am (like Becky’s in Portland). Plus, as we know, the most common European dinner time is 8:30 or 9 pm, concerts and theatre start around 11 pm and bars and music venues stay open until 4 am. Filling the latest hours of the day with food and entertainment didn’t support my getting out of bed for my beloved Morning-Write.

And then there are those great free breakfasts that most hotels serve or put out on buffet: they usually start at 8 am and grazing an amazing buffet of pastry, eggs, yogurt, sausages and smoked salmon takes my mind off crime and mystery writing. Why didn’t I write in bed at 5 am? The snoring from the person next to me can put me on edge. Why didn’t I just head to the lobby at 5 am? The hotel lobbies (if large enough) tend to have short drink tables, not desk-level tables, and I don’t like to type with a laptop on my lap (even though my dislike goes against the idea of what the “lap” top was designed for). And if I had enjoyed the secret speakeasy the night before (you need to know the address and where the hidden doorbell is to get in – there’s no signage because it IS secret), the early Lobby-Write wasn’t going to work.

And if the only time you can tour the Tinned Fish Factory in Porto (a passion for sardines is responsible for this plan) is 9:30 am and you have to take a train to the outer part of the city, so you have to leave for the station at 8:35, the Morning-Write is again dinged.

A Noon-Write is pushed aside because I wanted to go to ‘the most beautiful bookstore in the world’ – Liveria Lello. It’s in an area of Porto that is packed with cocktail/port/wine bars and other bookstores (I’m very impressed, I must say, at the Portuguese love of books – and port).

The stunning Lello bookstore inspired J.K. Rowling to create a similar place in her Harry Potter series. (She was teaching English in Porto and started outlining/writing Harry Potter in the city.

Maybe J.K.’s why you now have to pay 8 Euro to go inside the bookstore (but if you buy something, the 8 Euro goes towards it so you get this great feeling you’re getting 1/3 off a book – which of course you’re not, but still…).

And Afternoon-Write was only partially successful because I wanted to hang out at the ‘oldest café in Porto’ – the Majestic. It’s gorgeous, built in 1921, in the ‘La Belle Epoque’ era, and is complete with glittering chandeliers, swerve-y arches, cupids and wild-shaped windows and mirrors.

Smartly dressed waiters sweep over and give you a menu that lists lots of coffees and ports and cocktails. The most incredible food-treat was a quickly-dipped- and-fried French Toasts served with bananas and drowned in maple syrup.

A blurb on the café reads: ‘This cafe used to be the meeting point of the elite of the city. Writers, politicians, royals, musicians, artists, and thinkers exchanged ideas here and discussed different topics over a cup of coffee or a glass of absinthe. Once you walk through the main doors it’s like you’re taken back in time, and you can feel and hear the ideas, stories and conspiracies that took place at those tables.’

J.K. Rowling spent time at the Majestic too. The café’s website states that she ‘scribbled down notes on napkins while enjoying a coffee break in Café Majestic’ and it’s noted that she even started HP, Book One here.  (I got too into rubber-necking and drinking white port and eating French Toast to write more than a page.)

And then we had to walk off the tasty pastry, and there were city hills to climb, port distilleries to visit (get the history of and taste-test the fine products), art and fashion to admire and then one had to take a sunset boat ride on the river. So, the Just-Before-Serious-Cocktail-Write had to be put aside.

I have to admit, Dee Rommel didn’t even get much ‘thinking’ time in Porto. That had to wait until we reached our AirBnB in Florence – where the novelty and ‘tourist mindset’ had worn off years ago when I spent long stretches (four months at a crack) teaching screenwriting there (four years in a row and I still can’t converse in Italian). The Morning-Writes didn’t start until 7 am (damn that late night life) – but the routine was back in place in a series of cafés filled with lots of other writers (some students) on laptops at tables set at a perfect desk-height.

And Dee Rommel was joined by Los Angeles based Bennet Azuolo, a very private detective sent to Florence to find the missing wife of the very rich Vermont Parka King. I want Bennet to ‘star’ in a series of short stories that take place in Florence.  One down. We’ll see if more follow…