In this section, we have included a few selections from the Gaviota Writers. We're a group of friends who gather every month or so to share what we have written.

The concept began with Bob Isaacson in 1994. He suspected there were others like himself who scribbled words in solitude, and he was right. We circulated a notice that drew a handful of wonderful eccentrics. Our early meetings were held in the evenings in my classroom, or seated at a long table in the library of Vista de las Cruces School. Over the years we've had one-time visitors and a solid core of loyal members who hate to miss a meeting.

We share journal excerpts, short stories, novels-in-progress, poetry, and even an occasional song. Our school room days are gone; now we meet at one another's houses, all of which are perfect haunts: ramshackle ranch houses sagging slightly at the seams, houses within sight of sea, or nestled on quiet streets of nowhere in particular.

Sometimes we linger for awhile in Sally's garden, or detour to look at the zebras at David's place, or sit beneath the arbor in Jim's backyard. In the summer, if we're lucky, Bob drives us all in the back of his pick-up to a special meadow on the top of a hill. We wear broad-brimmed hats to shield us from the sun and feast on goat cheese, pesto, tomatoes and plums. Then we sit on an old wooden flatbed trailer or lean back in the waves of dry grass and listen to our friends reading to us. Sigh.

On winter evenings, we sometimes drive through the rain to sit together in warm rooms lit by lamps and wood-burning stoves. We eat, and we talk, but mostly, we read and listen. We receive each other's words with appreciation, criticizing gently and complimenting sincerely. Usually, we leave encouraged ... even inspired. It's a delightfully nineteenth century kind of interaction, and I think we have all come to cherish it.