Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Of found mermaids and ROW80

We're on the road, but I still see mermaids everywhere.

This mermaid perches above two draft beer kegs at the Chart House in Crescent City, right by the sea. Her face is hidden, her delicate hair and fins fashioned of driftwood, a creature reclaimed from the sea, anonymous, maybe even the bones of the sea, here in this town so vulnerable to tsunamis.

Later today I'll go walking by the ocean, feeling again the pull of the waves and the sea, that tension between becoming and being. Perhaps writers are always caught in imagining something else, never quite 'here and now' but always drawn to the possible, the 'what if?' The tide turns and returns, the waves a constant sound of something just beyond my ken.

ROW80 UPDATE: Not much to report this week. I'm reading someone else's novel for quick comments. In the morning, I'm optimistic and writing, but I've set aside other ROW80 goals for now. We are on the road and I'm the primary driver. Is that an excuse? I only know that after driving 200 miles, I feel too tired to do much more than flop. We'll head down the California coast tomorrow and have a rest day today -- so later a walk along the beach but now it's time for writing. May your week go well.