Heading to Hawaii Tuesday.
North Shore of Oahu. My goal is to run every day on the jungle trails along the beach. Slow AF. Lots of humid tropical sweat. I'll set up my writing space at a table looking out at the ocean, like when I worked on Survivor. Something about the sound of breaking waves helps the writing process. Then I'll grab a book and spend the day reading. I won't wear shoes all that much.
I get emails asking for writing advice. Everyone has a book in them and they want to know how to put theirs on the page. My response is always disappointing. There's no pixie dust. Just tell a story. If you get stuck about how to start, begin with "once upon a time." Write one page a day and in a year you've got a book.
But I never tell them about the book report. . . .
Yesterday was the day. There's a moment once a year when the sunlight shifts from hard direct brightness to a cool orange pastel. You have to know it when you see it. But from that instant forward the seasons begins turning from summer to fall. This year, the first sense of that shift came yesterday morning, down in Trabuco Canyon. My runners were making their way up Holy Jim Canyon on the fire road, a cluster of blue and white shorts and t-shirts.
Taking London is the best thing I've ever written. These past two weeks making one final edit were like Christmas. I'd literally wake up at 3 a.m., eager to find better ways to tell the story. Then I'd force myself to go back to sleep, reminding myself a rested edit is a sharper edit. I'd dream about the characters, letting them tell me more about their arc.
Thanks to my copy editor, I have learned that I am fond of using a dangling modifying phrase. I did not know this. In fact, I will admit that I have no idea what constitutes a dangling modifying phrase. I was never good at diagramming sentences. There's a myth out there that writers are master grammarians, but I think the truth is that most of us stumbled upon this career because we like to read, do not play well with others, and quietly wondered what it would be like to live the writing life.
Most writers don't love editors. I do. Back since Beth Hagman at Competitor Magazine told me to tell stories in the most linear fashion possible ("the horse pulls the cart over the trail by the fastest route"), the notion of editors crafting a story has been in my head. Through Jason Kaufman, Geoff Shandler, Gillian Blake, and Brent Howard, these wonderful people have made me better. And don't get me started on how much I love copy editors. This gushing deserves an explanation.
The journey from Orange County to Mammoth is an empty speedway at 6 a.m. I made it up here in five hours despite a short freeway shutdown and a stop for Starbuck's in Adelanto. The family condo is a great place for solitude and writing but I'm in a restless mood so I've spent most of the past two days running, hiking, and finding a spot in town to sit alone in the shade and read. Distant Brewing worked just fine.
[Royalty] is something I think about more than you can imagine…. I have spent enough time with peripheral historical figures to know when Victoria lived and died, that George VI smoked too much, and the wonderful historical trivia that the reign of Elizabeth II coincided with a British subject becoming the first man to set foot atop Mount Everest — and that an intrepid reporter named James Morris — later Jan, after a midlife sex-change — was the first individual to race off the mountain and flash the news back to London in time for the coronation.
