It was the fifth day of spicy chicken sausage from Costco.
We were far from a store - N 36 degrees 29.472 & W 151 degrees 37.999
(Day 10 from Honolulu bound for San Francisco)
Almost nearly the point where we make that right turn to California across the expanse of the Pacific.
And he hit the lure. We saw him far out digging through the waves. Maybe a thousand feet of line. Pulled him in. Hand over hand.
All good things take effort.
5 pm and 84 degrees.
Two more random facts about me.
I am obsessive.
I like being in control.
I also am intense. Very intense. I love to talk. I love meeting new people (or old people for that matter).
That was 6.
In a few hours I will be on my way to Seattle and then on my way to Norway. I am not packed.
"What are you doing instead of packing?" I hear you ask.
I am trying to write down my top ten all time favorite novels and explain why.
I am also trying to narrow down my top twenty narrators down to five.
It is hard.
It is very hard.
But it is better than packing.
I will let you all guess how many warm clothes I have.
Why am I doing this?
Because this is a question that is being asked of me so often that I figured I better sit down and think about it.
It reminds me.
Each time I'm in a music store I completely forget which songs I want.
When I go to a bookstore I blank out when I try to think of an author's name or book title.
It stands to reason that I have trouble remembering clearly which books have shaped me into the writer that I am.
When I am asked.
My mind goes all wobbly and I wonder.
Can I read?
I mention three or four novels that come to mind and then walk away in a daze. Dissatisfied. I know I could do better.
Five minutes later I have a perfectly glorious list of ten stunners.
But no one's asking.
Why oh why did I not write them down?
Well. That's what I'm doing now.
Writing them down.
Instead of packing.