Afloat

Well, it’s official: I am now—at last—a liveaboard novelist.

This represents the culmination of a lifetime of a vaguely defined aspiration, at least a decade of generalized planning and preparations, and five years of serious, focused effort. In fact, it was five years almost precisely to the day from our first real sailing lesson (as opposed to the informal sailing experiences we had been enjoying together prior to that point) and signing the transfer of ownership papers on our own sailboat.

Trish and I had a long and demanding list of picky requirements and preferences, and this boat met all of them, so we pounced. No vessel is perfect, but this one was as close as we were going to get. We had expected (and were ready) to make some sacrifices and accept some compromises, but ultimately we didn't have to; she's just exactly what we were looking for.

So we are now living aboard a lovely Island Packet 31. We have named her Salacia, as in the wife of Neptune. And yes, that is the root of the word “salacious.” There was, naturally, a period of adjustment, marked by getting moved in, getting organized, finding places for everything, and adapting to all the unique aspects of life on a boat, major and minor. Plus there was a mountain of official documentation and a lengthy spreadsheet of legal, financial, and practical arrangements to make. But now we're settled in, and I'm at a point where I can sit at my computer and just write. It's wonderful.

It would be appropriate to acknowledge the broker who enabled us to find our new home, and she just happens to be a Goodreads author herself. It's Melanie Neale, who wrote Boat Girl: A Memoir of Youth, Love & Fiberglass and who also happens to sell boats. Thanks, Melanie! (If anyone reading this is looking for a boat, she can hook you up. Also, read her book. It's good. Read my review here if you're interested.)

Yes, this is still a writing blog, not a sailing blog. I will endeavor to restrain myself from delving into excessive nautical terminology or rambling endlessly about life on the water—although I cannot guarantee I won’t digress into that territory occasionally.*

In many ways, a shipboard existence is ideal for writing. Whether tied up securely in a harbor or bouncing across an ocean, a sailor finds himself with lots of time on his hands. When not navigating, repairing something, or actively engaged in work on deck such as sail changes, there are hours free to contemplate the sea and indulge the creative and philosophical impulses. Or drink rum.** Whatever.

Indeed, there is an ancient tradition of great stories about sea voyages, and a closely related legacy of authors who do their best work while far from the mundane distractions of land.

I know: boat people are notorious for being insufferably long-winded about their vessels and the joys and agonies of life aboard. So I promise*** to stick closely to the primary subject of this blog . . . most of the time.

*Like now, for example.

**Just kidding. No drinking while underway.

***Please take this promise in the spirit of the current election campaign season.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

My author page:
www.AustinScottCollins.com

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Recent popular posts:

Crazy People in History #1

A Brief Guide to Writing Terrible Fiction

Martinus or Martino?

Answering the Inevitable Questions