Saturday night at the Great Park. America's biggest cross country meet raced under the lights. Arrived at 1 pm and stayed until almost midnight. Usually, the Woodbridge Invitational competes late to avoid mid-September heat. This year, the weather was cool and damp enough that I put on a sweatshirt at 3 and kept it on until the bitter end. As those who know me will attest, I will find any excuse to wear a sweatshirt.
Flying home from Oahu.
I'm on the aisle. Callie has the window, eyes closed, wrapped in a blue United blanket. Somewhere in my carry-on is the notebook I bought in Edinburgh ten or so years ago. I can't remember which book I was researching. Might have been Killing Kennedy, but it was definitely a Killing book. Between 2010 and 2020 I didn't write anything else.
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.
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.
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.
I hit my deadline. There is no pretending it was easy. Perhaps you missed last week's blog post — the one that never occurred. . . . No matter your business, hitting a deadline means hyperfocus and sacrifice. And it's not just working fast. It has to be the best, which means not just writing, but editing (and more editing), and research (and still more research). But now it's done. . . .
