Try Again

Sometimes you just feel stranded. A ship stuck in the shale on the beach, slowly decaying. Your pilot house gets pilfered; your planking comes undone. You are no longer a ship at sea. You are no longer doing what you are meant to be doing. You have lost your way and you have washed up on some shore for someone to take a black and white photograph of. You feel ignoble. Ashamed, perhaps. Lost for sure. Lost. Lost and stuck. Lost and stranded. But someone comes along and picks you up and you try again. You try to regain your humble nobility. You try to regain what you are - what you've lost along the way. You try again to regain that something that kept you from running ashore all those times before. And maybe you will find it and maybe you won't.

But you try again.

Because what else is there to do?

Fly Fishing is a Lot Like Writing

I've been doing a good amount of fly fishing this summer.  It's a good way for me to get out of the house and think about things, both writing-wise and life-wise.  This past year hasn't been a piece of cake so I'm doing more searching than I've done in the past.  And that's not a bad thing, mind you.  A little soul searching is good for a fella.  But we won't get into that right now.

What I've found while wandering the stream is that fly fishing is a lot like writing.  You have to be patient.  You have to be still.  You have to present the fly in a precise way.  You have to read the water correctly to know where the prize might be hiding.  And there are tight spots with overhead trees and snags in the river - danger lurks everywhere for a guy whipping 20 feet of line over his head.  And if you do all that, you have to have a fish that is willing to come up and take your fly.  You can do it all correctly.  You can do it all just as Mike taught you.  And the damn fish won't take the fly.

See what I mean?  Fly fishing is a lot like writing.

The Best Thriller Writer You've Never Heard Of

I don't normally plug other authors on the blog but I felt compelled after reading Gregg's latest, Trust No One.  As the great reviewer David Montgomery said in his review, Gregg might be the best thriller writer you've never heard of.  Let's see if we can change that - what do you say?  Buy the book.  Thank me later.

And Borders has a nice interview with Gregg and his mentor, Robert Crais.  It gives you good insight into how Gregg works.

Agents are human too

Yeah, I'm a sucker for a good poop story.  And it's always good to remember, that agents (and writers) are human with all the faults and foibles (that's a writerly word) that come with being human.  Barbara Poole is a hero in my book for giving us this reminder.

Live in the sunshine

Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air....

Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's become a thing for me now.  When a celebrity dies, I start to think about my own mortality - especially when that person is about my age.  I'm also reading the obituaries in my local paper looking for guys that are my age.  It's morbid and I hate myself for it - but I can't stop.  I'm young by all standards.  I have a long life ahead of me.  Many adventures, many joys.  And many heartaches.  I will live a long and glorious life.

Natasha Richardson probably thought the same thing.

We hear it all the time.  Life is short.  Gather thee rosebuds while ye may, etc.  But do any of us really do it?  Do we drink the wild air at every opportunity?  I don't.  I try to, but I don't.  I need to do that more.  To live life.  Because I too might be doing something so benign as skiing on a beginners slope and within two days I'm no more.

My thoughts and prayers go out to Ms. Richardson's family and friends.  May you again live in the sunshine some day.