By the time you read this, I’ll be planted on the sandy white beaches of Montauk Point. If you’ve never been to Long Island, New York, you’ve missed out on one of the most spectacular stretches of oceanfront in the world. Yes, that’s what I said…the world. I’ve been on many a vacation where people tout magnificent beaches, but alas, I’m loathe to find one with sand as white as this. The Caribbean is close and okay, the water is a beautiful green-blue color that you’ll never see in the Atlantic Ocean.
“Why am I here?” you ask. Didn’t you just leave boring Long Island in search of a more wonderful locale? A more exciting life? Well, yes, I did. But my oldest son is getting married there, and I’ve walked away from the writing life for a week or two, embracing my real life for a change. Abandoning my imaginary friends: Olivia, Drew, Seth, Kadie, and Michael (The Wives of Lucifer) and Daniel and Alyx (UnderCovers) is difficult, but instead of living in my fantasy world I’m traveling to a real life fantasy wedding, an outdoor ceremony with the waves crashing behind us, a sky the bluest of blues, the balmy warm breeze, plush with fabulous seafood and top shelf liquor. (There’s a backup locale at the resort for the ceremony in the event an antagonist arrives in the form of a tropical storm.)
My future daughter-in-law is a big wig in the fashion industry and yet she’s rather modest and understated in her adornments and you’d never guess what she does for a living. Her boss laments that he never goes to weddings in The Hamptons, because they are pretentious and boring. But he and his partner are coming. Probably because he knows that it will be a simple yet elegant affair. And he must be fond of her. I adore her.
Believe it or not, my son is the real fashionista in the family, and he’s a pretty damn good cook too. Her, well, not so much. But they make a spectacular couple, complimenting each other in the most perfect of ways.
Sometimes, as a writer, I get too involved in the lives of my characters and I forget about the world around me. Too many days spent in my yoga pants, no make-up, hair undone, and the only interaction I have with other humans is at the gym. And that’s not as interactive as it used to be. In the olden days you talked to the guy next to you. It helped pass the time. You got to know each other, often sharing rather intimate details of your life as you sweated together on the elliptical machine or stepper. But no more. We’re all plugged in to our music, or reading on our eReaders, or watching TV. I didn’t get to know a single solitary soul in my last two gyms.
Anyway, I’m off to my own happily-ever-after wedding, at least I hope so. Marriage doesn’t always have a happy ending, but I’m optimistic that these two kids know how to do it right. Happily ever after isn’t really the end, it’s the beginning, and I’ve mused on this in a former post. In marriage, there are moments of exhilaration and happiness and long periods of satisfied companionship. There are also the occasional stretches of unexpected calamities, arguments, misunderstandings, and pouting, sometimes accompanied by periods of the silent treatment…my personal unfavorite.
My characters, however, will have to wait, not so patiently, for my return. But I hear them already as they jump up and down, clapping their hands together with unadulterated glee. For, you see, I’m going to have one of my broken ankles re-broken and repaired. Ugh. A cast for another six to eight weeks. I barely survived the last year of two broken ankles. And yet as bad as it is for my real life, it’s spectacular for my writing life. Confined to my couch for that amount of time I should finally be able to shed the turtle-posture and get that dreaded edit done.
So…let the writing commence! Next month…