Sometimes when I am writing a book, I need to get out of the setting, out of my head, and basically out of town. A beachy vacation is always the dream choice and this time, I really went.
The mornings are the best time for walking and thinking, or not thinking about anything except the beauty around you.
Apparently, a lot of other people needed to walk and think too. Cape Cod is a good place for that.
As a writer, I’m always on the look out for interesting characters.
I also needed some adventure, like Liz Kroft in the book MIDDLE OF SOMEWHERE (My beach read, by Sonja Yoerg) even though Liz chose the mountains. I chose to walk out on the beach during a very low tide.
I felt so free walking out on the beach at low tide that I found myself squawking back at one of these guys (not this exact one, although he was friendly too), a compulsion that I’m sure came from the other book I’ve been reading by Cathy Lamb (MY VERY BEST FRIEND) because Charlotte, the main character, is always meowing back at the cat. Nobody heard me. In fact, it struck me that even though I saw people walking far, far away, I was alone, and it’s often good for a writer to be alone with their thoughts.
Sometimes, it’s not good to be alone. I thought of this when I realized that I did not do the good writer thing and research that morning’s tide for Brewster, Massachusetts and I was at least a mile from shore. When I looked back I noticed a lot more water between myself and the tiny far away people sitting in beach chairs. Luckily, I came upon a lovely man walking along the encroaching water’s edge. He was a local, at least I think so, and he explained to me that the lowest tide was two hours before and gave me the impression he thought I should head back to shore now, unless I wanted to swim. I walked a little bit and turned to find that the man was already gone and I had the distinct impression that he was never there. I looked at the distance between myself and the shore and I felt very isolated, like the boy in LIFE OF PI.
What can I say? It’s impossible to go through life without comparing it to the novels I’ve read. If you are a reader, I am sure the same thing happens to you.
I did make it back to shore, grabbed my book, had the cabana boy (not sure if that’s what they are called, but that’s how it is in all the romance novels) carry my chair and umbrella to a quiet area, dug my toes into the sand. and I didn’t write a word.