Unlike my friend Dan, I am perpetually underdressed. I try. Sort of. But it seems I'm always a jacket and pair of dress shoes short. As my wife told me last night after we attended a party here in New York, I tend to look like I just left track practice. Dan, on the other hand, is always pressed and shined, no matter the occasion.
A long while ago, I wrote The Explorers. I sold the idea as a new take on the Burton-Speke expedition to find the source of the Nile. But the Killing series took off after the contract was signed. What was supposed to be one book is now up to thirteen. So in the interests of keeping things fresh (and fulfiliing my contract), I spun the Burton-Speke drama into something entirely different. . . .
This year marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of one of my forgotten works: Inline Skating Made Easy. When people ask me to name my first book, I usually talk about Surviving the Toughest Race on Earth, my memoir about covering and competing in the legendary Raid Gauloises adventure race. But Surviving wasn't the first. Actually, Inline wasn't either. . . .
I'm riding the Eurostar as I write this, halfway between Paris and London. It has been a wild two weeks for Callie and myself, our first time back in Europe since Covid. It was also my first time in Paris since Taking Paris was released. . . .
A little secret here: I have forever harbored the quiet notion that my body of work would one day be important enough to require a scholarly archive. So ever since 1993 and the Sports Illustrated for Kids book Over the Edge, I have saved every hard copy revision of every manuscript I've ever written (with the exception of In-line Skating Made Easy, which I knew would one day require a great deal of explanation).
Taking Paris hits stores four weeks from today. I write this because it suddenly feels close and I want to remind myself that it's not tomorrow. Be patient. Twenty-eight days is a long time to wait for anything, including a Christmas-like event landing the first week in September. So I must remain calm, knowing that four Tuesdays from now will come when it comes. . . .
