In Celebration of the Beach Reader
The beach more than warms away the gloom of winter. It reminds us that the world is a big place of beauty – no matter the full disclosure of an ill-chosen Speedo.
Many of you know the unique joy of reclining on a shore, feeling a book give you a sail. That sea horizon mystifies us with the enormity of what lies beyond, and a fine piece of writing carries us to meet what we would otherwise never see. Beaches speak of great journeys and landings. Books make them happen, even without our pants on.
Those of you who know me try to understand my nearly insane love of hot-weather running. I’m the rare man who adores the feel of sea-level humidity. To hit a beach and put 5 miles under my feet in 90-degree weather brings me a happiness I’m hopeless to describe. I’m unaffected by the countless sunbathers who shoot looks at me that might as well say -- “@$%* fool! What the #%^* is the matter with him?” I can answer only this way: running a hot beach takes me to a mighty good inner place.
Those of you who carry She-Rain to your vacation shore this year honor me with your time, and I want to repay that with this little revelation: Much of the story emerged into my heart, and eventually onto the page, along a beautiful piece of shore. The adventure of She-Rain often took form while I put those miles under my feet. My wife, Jill, suffered in the confetti of little notes I scribbled all over the place just trying to get the thoughts down before they vanished. I suppose the same magic that makes a beach inspire a reader makes it into a muse to this writer.
She-Rain ends on a fine piece of shoreline, and I did that as homage to the shore’s reach into my soul. Great horizons of water ironically gave rise to the Appalachian Mountain blue you’ll find in the novel’s world. As you rest on a beach with my book on your lap, I hope you find the tale carries you far beyond the worries we all take on vacation with us. May you lose yourself in there, even in the suffering of Frank, Mary Lizbeth, Sophia and the others. You have my pledge – the book will transport them – and you, I hope – to a place of boundless hope. I’m struck just now by the truth that She-Rain takes form as a year does – beginning in the coldness of often dark times, rising toward a warm light we can despair of ever feeling again, then coming to an end on a great holiday.
Gratitude should never take a holiday, and I have some to share. My agent, Terra Chalberg of the Susan Golomb Agency, just keeps on reminding me that the best parts of our lives are made of relationships. She does this with much more than her brilliant and professional advocacy of me in the literary world. She does it with the grace, welcome, and care we tend to feel from the best of our family. Terra, you are family to Jill and to me! Thank you for showing us to the good shores of friends for life.
And to everyone who’ll stare out at a big piece of water in these fine warm weeks to come – think of the legacy we build with the simple words – thank you. Whisper them quietly to yourself for the goodness of your times, and feel a peace come back in return. I bid you peace, with wishes for the joys of many fine reads to come. To all readers of She-Rain, my deepest thanks to you! Here’s to reading, nearly naked on the sand!
Many of you know the unique joy of reclining on a shore, feeling a book give you a sail. That sea horizon mystifies us with the enormity of what lies beyond, and a fine piece of writing carries us to meet what we would otherwise never see. Beaches speak of great journeys and landings. Books make them happen, even without our pants on.
Those of you who know me try to understand my nearly insane love of hot-weather running. I’m the rare man who adores the feel of sea-level humidity. To hit a beach and put 5 miles under my feet in 90-degree weather brings me a happiness I’m hopeless to describe. I’m unaffected by the countless sunbathers who shoot looks at me that might as well say -- “@$%* fool! What the #%^* is the matter with him?” I can answer only this way: running a hot beach takes me to a mighty good inner place.
Those of you who carry She-Rain to your vacation shore this year honor me with your time, and I want to repay that with this little revelation: Much of the story emerged into my heart, and eventually onto the page, along a beautiful piece of shore. The adventure of She-Rain often took form while I put those miles under my feet. My wife, Jill, suffered in the confetti of little notes I scribbled all over the place just trying to get the thoughts down before they vanished. I suppose the same magic that makes a beach inspire a reader makes it into a muse to this writer.
She-Rain ends on a fine piece of shoreline, and I did that as homage to the shore’s reach into my soul. Great horizons of water ironically gave rise to the Appalachian Mountain blue you’ll find in the novel’s world. As you rest on a beach with my book on your lap, I hope you find the tale carries you far beyond the worries we all take on vacation with us. May you lose yourself in there, even in the suffering of Frank, Mary Lizbeth, Sophia and the others. You have my pledge – the book will transport them – and you, I hope – to a place of boundless hope. I’m struck just now by the truth that She-Rain takes form as a year does – beginning in the coldness of often dark times, rising toward a warm light we can despair of ever feeling again, then coming to an end on a great holiday.
Gratitude should never take a holiday, and I have some to share. My agent, Terra Chalberg of the Susan Golomb Agency, just keeps on reminding me that the best parts of our lives are made of relationships. She does this with much more than her brilliant and professional advocacy of me in the literary world. She does it with the grace, welcome, and care we tend to feel from the best of our family. Terra, you are family to Jill and to me! Thank you for showing us to the good shores of friends for life.
And to everyone who’ll stare out at a big piece of water in these fine warm weeks to come – think of the legacy we build with the simple words – thank you. Whisper them quietly to yourself for the goodness of your times, and feel a peace come back in return. I bid you peace, with wishes for the joys of many fine reads to come. To all readers of She-Rain, my deepest thanks to you! Here’s to reading, nearly naked on the sand!
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