Deluge: A Fictional Account of What Would Happen if Extreme Weather Hit California

Deluge is a disaster story. A real potential disaster is bearing down on the East Coast, and people would be wise to take every precaution. Everyone stay safe.

 Here is an snippet from the book that tries to put moving water in perspective.

Evarts examined the sky. He could discern not even a dull glow where the sun would be at this hour. He swiped water from his eyes.  The rain was bad enough, but the wind made the ocean surface bumpy, and the nose of his surfboard kept splashing salt water in his face as he paddled. He wanted to keep a clear eye out to sea, so it presented more than an annoyance. The larger, outside waves could be brutal, and he didn’t want to be caught inside in what surfers called the impact zone. People generally thought of water as benign. It watered gardens, you could drink it, bathe with it, freeze it to chill a drink or a sore back, swim in it, or laze on the surface in a boat or on a floater. Water was an essential element of life, useful and often great fun. But surfers knew water could also be a killer. No one who had been hit by a huge wave disrespected moving water. You couldn’t fight it. You couldn’t beat it. You could only get out of the way or let it throw you around like a rag doll in a Rottweiler’s grip.

Storms,politics, and gangs pillage California but that isn't the scary part.

Back from a vacation of surfing and writing

I took a break from social media for about four months. Fatigue, I guess. I wanted to write, enjoy my family, and surf.  The writing and family went great. The surfing so, so. I still get rides, and occasionally good rides, but embarrassments are less occasional.  I’m with Hobson in the movie Arthur. On his death bed, Arthur asks, “Do you want anything?” and Hobson replies, “I want to be younger.” My birthday is coming up, but asking for youth as a birthday gift seems contradictory.

John Gielgud as Hobson in Arthur

The first draft of Deluge is complete at long last. Actually, the second draft, but who's counting? This is a disaster story and since I had never lived through a disaster, I had to do a lot of research. It was a fun book to write, and I'm confident you'll enjoy it. Unfortunately, it will be many months before it makes it through the remaining steps to publication. 

In the meantime, Crossing the Animas is now available from Center Point Publishing in a hard cover, large print edition. Libraries are the primary market for this format, but it would make a dandy gift for some of us older guys who like our print large and our stories larger.

Now in large print, library binding

The Steve Dancy Tales
Honest westerns filled with dishonest characters

I'll return sooner next time. Have a great 2018!

Wow, that was fun!

The 2014 Tucson Festival of Books is over, but thankfully, there will be a TFoB 2015. They expected 240,000 and my guess is that they made their number easily. Workshops and author sessions were pretty much full to capacity and booths had crowds all day long. The culinary and children's tracks were exceptionally popular. If you have never been to one of these events, you really need to try one in your area. You'll meet a lot of great people. Book lovers are a friendly bunch.

I hope you enjoy these photos while I catch my breath and a couple waves in Pacific Beach.

Springtime in the Sonoran Desert

I arrived in Arizona last night with my wife. For the next two days, we’ll be staying with friends in their home surrounded by a stunning desert landscape. There are very few landscapes prettier than the Sonoran desert in the spring. I’ve been all over the world, and except for the dunes of Namibia, I believe the Arizona desert is the most beautiful in the world.

From here, we will drive down to Tucson for the Tucson Festival of Books. I’m a panelist in three sessions: Amazon for Authors, What to Expect With Self-Publishing, and Genre Writing. There will be a lot of great authors at the event and the festival ought to be fun. If you love books, there is no better place to be this weekend.

After the festival, we go to San Diego for two weeks of thawing out. There was little snow in Nebraska this year, but I could answer my wife’s question about the temperature with the fingers of a single hand. We have quests and family visiting us, but I should have plenty of time to catch a few waves.

Before returning home to Omaha, we’ll fly to New York City for 10 ten days to see our other grandchildren. My wife said something about shopping, but I’m sure I can bribe the grandkids to distract her.

When we get home after a month, our new house will be waiting. We’ll have more boxes to unpack, pictures to hang, paraphernalia to buy, and lots of handyman tasks. Maybe we’ll stay away longer, in hope that things will just sort themselves out. Fat chance.

Sam Elliott, A Favorite

Sam Elliott is one of my favorite actors. Although he has done outstanding work in Western films, I first became a fan after watching the 1976 Lifeguard. Elliott had the lead role in this coming-of-age film. He dominated the screen, but I really liked his character because I identified with his beach bum mindset.

I grew up in what is called the South Bay area of metropolitan Los Angeles. The South Bay was an odd collection of beach cities south of the upscale Malibu and Santa Monica. It was a perfect time to grow up in a perfect place. Surfing, friends, bikini-clad girls, and a little school on the side. I spent more time at the Second Street street-end in Hermosa Beach than I did at school ... sometimes at my principle’s invitation.

Lifeguard was filmed in the South Bay, so I had an immediate connection. Elliott plays a lifeguard who is constantly harangued about getting a real job. It is a nicely crafted script, and great performances by Sam Elliott, Anne Archer, and Kathleen Quinlan lifted a low-budget film above the commonplace. This was shrewd casting, since they all went on to become stars.

What brought all this to mind was an interview with Sam Elliott at A.V. Club. The interview is comprehensive, with film clips, lots of Hollywood insider stuff, and it ranges all over his remarkable career, including his Westerns. (Warning: It’s also sprinkled with F-bombs.) 

I had forgotten about Lifeguard until he mentioned the film, and the reference brought up a host of pleasant memories. It also reminded me that I once owned a tee-shirt that read, “There is no life east of Pacific Coast Highway.”

If you have never seen the film, pick it up and take a gander at a unique moment in time when Southern California beaches were uncrowded and life was truly simple. It’s also a great story.

A Surfer in Nebraska?

We arrived Friday evening in Omaha. It was late and we were very tired. Eight hundred and sixty miles of driving in a single day tends to do that to a worn out old body. I can’t imagine the hardships the pioneers endured. Brave souls.

Omaha, Nebraska is the geographic center of the nation. In the early days of the Cold War, the Pentagon put the Strategic Air Command headquarters outside Omaha to make it harder to hit. This means you can’t live in the United States and be further from a breaking wave.  So why would a lifelong surfer head for Nebraska? To be close to my grandkids who live in Omaha and closer to the ones who live in NYC. Besides, we still have a small condo in Pacific Beach to escape harsh winters on the Great Plains. Ironically, we bought our San Diego place to escape the scorching Arizona summers. (Arizona has two seasons: winter and hell.) I just need to convert from a summer surfer to a winter surfer. Thank goodness for wetsuits.

I’m going to enjoy writing Westerns from Nebraska. Omaha and the surrounding territory have a great Western heritage. In some respects, pockets of Arizona remain the Wild West, but Omaha nurtured the move west for many of the pioneers. Besides, it will be a great take-off point for trips to South Dakota, Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana. These are all states I’ve visited several times, but want to spend more time exploring. It all ought to be great fun.

Related Posts

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

It's All Good!

Modern Wetsuits, A Wonder and a Pain in the Butt

Yesteryear

In a bygone era, milk was delivered fresh to the door in reusable bottles, ice cream trucks plied neighborhoods, Helms brought bakery goods to the curbside, and whether you wanted anything or not, you got a visit from an annoying Fuller Brush man. Another door-to-door phenomenon was a photographer with a pony in tow. Now, my mother would never pay for my picture sitting astride a guzzied up pony, but I followed this dude around the neighborhood to see which of my friends' parents were worthy of children.

Yours truly

These were highly professional photographers. You can tell from these artfully framed portraits. The hat and chaps came with, but it was supply your own cap pistol. I had one of those, but a stingy mom. She tried to make up for her miserly ways by snapping my picture on the stoop with her Brownie. I loved her anyway.

Neighborhoods seemed a lot more important back then. I knew every kid within a couple years of my age. If mom wasn't home, I knew she was sipping coffee over gossip with one of her neighbors. We played in the street with no fear of a reckless driver, and went to the park unafraid of being bothered by strangers. All the parents walked together to the PTA meetings at our school, and to my knowledge, they never discovered we played marbles for keeps.

I thought those were the best of times until I learned to surf as a freshman in high school. Then my neighborhood became a street end in Hermosa Beach. Now those were the days, my friend.

Busy with important stuff

I haven't written too many posts lately because I've been busy with some really important stuff. My daughter and her kids have been visiting us in Pacific Beach. Yesterday, my granddaughter took her first surf lesson. Here's a video of her very first wave ever. She's stoked!

At the end of the hour and a half lesson, she was auditioning to be a Roxy Girl.

On the book front, The Return just received its first Amazon review. Take a gander. It's a good review, of course, or I wouldn't link to it here.

Steve Dancy in Love?

Steve Dancy has had a rocky romantic life in the first three novels. His mother pushed him to marry a young lady who would enhance the family’s wealth and connections, but New York City socialites and socializing bored Steve. In defiance, he sold everything and followed Horace Greeley advice to “Go west, young man.” 




Steve assumed he would observe the frontier and write a great literary classic about the Wild West. He found enough adventure to fill several books and made a few male friends along the way. In his wanderings, he also encountered many different types of women, but Steve argued with every one of them. Needless to say, this was not the best way to strike up a relationship.

Things change in The Return.  Steve remains clumsy with the opposite sex, but even a dunderhead can be successful on occasion. I’d tell you what happens, but why ruin the suspense. You’ll just have to buy a copy and read for yourself.

As for me, I'm leaving the scorching heat of Arizona for Pacific Beach. I'll get in a little surfing between playing with my grandkids, who are flying in from Nebraska. You know, I think my granddaughter is the right age to start bogie boarding. This is gonna be fun.

Waist-High Bliss

San Diego

San Diego has a lot going for it. It’s a great city with a world-famous zoo, great museums, fun harbor areas, a vibrant downtown, and the neat and tidy U.S. Navy strutting its stuff.  Like every large city, San Diego has districts with distinct personalities. My preference is Pacific Beach … and not just because I surf. I like the atmosphere. It’s a bit rowdy with college kids, surfers, and beach bums, but it’s a fun crowd. In fact, fun might be their sole objective.

USS Ronald Reagan (CVN-76)

Pacific Beach

The surf is pretty good, as well. I’m at Pacific Beach now and had a good morning surfing. The day was gorgeous. Sunny, warm, with a slight wind that just rippled the surface of the ocean. The waves were small ... knee to waist high, and you had to wait for the waist-high waves. Nice shape, though. I thought I did well, with two really good rides and no embarrassments on my other waves. 

The whole day reminded me of my youth. What my mother thought was my wasted youth. I never believed that. I was having the time of my life, and how could that be a waste. When I see teenagers in the water, I wonder if they know how lucky they are to live the Southern California beach lifestyle. We knew way back then, and I bet they know today. (My favorite tee shirt read, “There’s no Life East of Pacific Coast Highway.)

What does all this have to do with writing? Not a damn thing. I just had a good day in the waves and wanted to blog about it. This is what happens when Steve Dancy is in proofreading. When the character’s away, the writer plays.

Can a manuscript ever be perfect?

Orgainc? Now that's embarrassing. 

A couple weeks ago, I went through the galley proof for The Return and found over twenty changes. Bummer. When I received the corrected galley proof, I found two more errors. Double bummer. The book is now in proofreading and if experience is any guide, a dozen or more errors and typos will be discovered. Makes you wonder if it's possible to write 75,000 flawless words. 

It's embarrassing when reviewers point out grammar or spelling mistakes. Yet, it invariably happens. My first book, published by Wiley, had three line-editors. That was standard practice fifteen years ago. Now, even the big houses have cut back to a single line editor. That's why you're seeing more mistakes in big-name author books. It's not the cost of editing as much as the time. Time is money, and when you have a potential bestseller waiting in the wings, publishers are in a rush to get it to market. 

Anyway, I'm rambling because I'm at a bit of a loss about what to do. The cartoon below explains my mood exactly, except I've finished writing my latest book. It's always been hard for me to start the writing process on a new book while my last novel is in the final stages. I know I'll get engrossed in new story and resent the inevitable interruptions that come form finalizing and promoting my prior book. I only allow myself to read books I've collected as reference material for my next novel. Besides, I need to let the plot percolate for a while before laying down the first word.

I think I'll head off to Pacific Beach and get in a little summer surfing. Reading and surfing ... that should fill my days nicely.

There is no life east of Pacific Coast Highway

A few posts ago, I described meeting an old high school friend at his mountain retreat in the Sierras.

Mountain Sanctuary

When we were freshmen and sophomores, we rode bikes to the beach towing our surfboards behind us using jerry-rigged trailers we had cobbled together out of two-by-fours, carpet pieces, and old wagon wheels. It was a great time of life. The good news is that we knew it. We had lots of fun and many friends. We really did believe that no life existed east of Pacific Coast Highway (PCH).

Best of the batch of yours truly

On rare occasions, my friend would bring a twin-reflex camera to the beach and try to capture moments of surfing prowess. He had a darkroom in his garage and I can remember spending hours trying to finesse a recognizable image. No such luck. Without a telephoto, we only got  grainy pictures of neophyte surfers riding tiny waves. In other words, nothing we could pass around the school cafeteria to secure a date or a couple moments of fame.

On my visit last month, my friend gave me an envelope of black and white negatives. His idea was that in the big city, I might find a lab that could still process two-inch, fifty year old negatives. With a few phone calls, I succeeded. However, modern technology still can’t out-perform an enlarger in a garage. In fact, back in those days, we may have had the edge in technology for this ancient medium. Despite not finding Surfer Magazine-worthy material, we did have fun seeing these photographs once again. They brought back pleasant memories of long-ago summers. Unfortunately, they also reminded us how much time had gone by. Darn. Nostalgia just isn't what it used to be.

My Pinterest board on surfing

Me and an impolite friend

Mountain Sanctuary

Yesterday, I visited a high school friend I had not seen for at least thirty years. Before diverting north, the trip started through the Carson Pass in the Sierras. It was a beautiful drive and I thought anyone should feel privileged to view these magnificent mountains. Then I remembered Genoa, a way station for 49ers. I was cruising at 60 MPH in climate controlled comfort, while the early pioneers were lucky to eke out 10 miles in a long, determined day. The view probably wasn't uppermost on their minds.

My friend owns an isolated forty acres next to national forest. Getting there required him to come down the mountain to lead me through trails that would challenge a city-bred sedan. Although he had owned the land since the early seventies, he didn't move there until semi-retirement in the nineties.  Now his wife descends the mountain every day to work, while he struggles to make his home self-sufficient. He may want to be independent, but he’s a distant cousin from the long-gone, mountain men who lived off the land. PG&E provides electricity to supplement his solar panels, propane is delivered to his door, a tractor can carve out roads and plow snow, and cell phones keep civilization a touch screen away. Technology is a wonderful way to make a rustic existence comfortable. I even noticed a Verizon Hot Spot winking away on a book shelf to bring the entire World Wide Web directly to his mountain top. The pioneers could only wish they were so lucky.

We had a great afternoon wallowing in nostalgia for our younger days. We have lived very different lives since high school, but reconnected easily. We had been neighbors in high school and had peddled bikes towing surfboards to the beach nearly every day. We learned to surf with a couple of other friends and spent untold hours lazing about the beach; sunning, talking, playing volleyball, and flirting with girls. Growing up at the beach in the sixties was a singular experience and a great way to meander our way to adulthood.

Surf Vacation Over ... Wish April Was Over

My brother and sister and their spouses spent the week with us in San Diego. We talked, surfed, visited museums, dined out, cooked in, and drank a bit. We had a few days of good surf and a few mediocre days. It didn't matter ... I was almost always mediocre. It was a great time, but now we are back in Arizona facing a horrific April.

I’m usually early in tax filing, but this year I was so anxious to get The Return into editing that I have barely gathered up my records. We are also moving to Nebraska from Arizona, so there are real estate deals to close in both states, financing to get done, and twenty-two years of stuff to wade through to figure out what to move. Oh yeah, I’m also supposed to make a movie of our 2012 Christmas holidays with our families. If I don’t get it done before we move, I may see snow on the ground in Omaha before I get around to it.

The one bright spot is that I have a week scheduled in Nevada to research the next Steve Dancy Tale. That will give me a break from all the numbers and forms: taxes and financing and closings and bills. If I get too stressed out, I’ll start the next Dancy novel and escape to 1880.

How do you decide between First and Third Person?

In a previous post I wrote about giving the reader a clear signal that the point of view was about to change.

It all depends on how you look at it—Point of View

In this post I want to discuss one of the writers first and biggest decisions. Before you can write a single word, you need to decide whether the story will be told in the first or third person. I’m assuming that in either case, the author would use past tense. (If a writer wants to attempt second person or present tense, I have no suggestions, but I wish them luck.)

The Steve Dancy Tales are written in first person, while Tempest at Dawn and The Shut Mouth Society are written in third person.

First Person Point of View

The standard first person narrative requires a single point of view for the entire book and the story must unfold in front of the main characters eyes. This makes first person popular for detective novels because, except for a few tricks, the reader knows as much as the protagonist. From a plot perspective, first person can be difficult to pull off, but the reader is more likely to become attached to the protagonist. These aspects of a first person narrative caused me to use this point of view for the Steve Dancy Tales.

Third Person Point of View

I used third person in Tempest at Dawn. Third person is less personal and facilitates changing points of view. The Constitutional Convention is an iconic event in American History and I wanted the reader to view the events and people from some distance, as if it were a documentary film.

I had major difficultly deciding on the point of view for The Shut Mouth Society. I had just written my first Dancy novel in first person, but I wasn't sure that was the right way to go for a mystery/thriller. My technique for coming to a decision took a couple days of writing. I wrote the first chapter in both first and third person, and then put it aside for three days. When I came back and read the two versions side-by-side, the decision was easy. I wrote the book in third person. Despite having two protagonists, I never switched the point of view.

The connection between the reader and the story is through the narrator. I have a bias toward a single point of view because I think a single storyteller makes this connection stronger and the narrative more memorable. That said, I alternated points of view in Tempest at Dawn because it made sense in the presentation of the story.

A novel must take a reader to another place and time. The author decides how to transport the reader.

The Evolution of a Novel

I just spent a week writing and surfing in San Diego. The writing went well, the surfing not so much. The weather was crappy for three days and I was crappy the other five. My mind tells me what to do, but by the time my body reacts, it’s too late. Surfing needs to be an unconscious reaction. When you think, you get cold water down the back of your wetsuit. Actually I had a few decent rides, but nothing to write home about.

Speaking of writing, The Return is in its final revision before professional editing. I start each day by revising what I wrote the prior day, so by the time I complete the manuscript I think of it as a second draft. Then I go through it one more time on my computer. I make revisions, but this third pass is primarily for continuity, clarity, and crispness. I've now completed this step for The Return, A Steve Dancy Tale.

My next step takes me to Staples where I print four copies. Three copies go to ornery people who will give me honest feedback. (Okay, one is my wife. She’s not ornery. I didn’t mean that. Really.) The last copy is for me. I use a traditional red pen and really scrub the printed version.

Here is a previous post where I related revisions to antique car restoration.

I always see odd and outright embarrassing things when I review a printed version. There is something about ink on a page that is totally different from a backlit screen. Stuff jumps out on a page where the eye glides over it on a computer. When I finish my review, I consolidate all the revisions from the four copies.  It surprises me that obvious problems are often missed by one or more of my reviewers. I’d like to think it’s because they got lost in the story, but it’s probably human nature.

Professionally Format e-books

How long before the book is ready for the general public? Months, I’m afraid. The next step will be professional editing, and then my final review of all of the recommended changes. This is an important step because I've been separated from the book for a while, which allows me to see it with fresh eyes. Along with accepting/rejecting line-editing, I frequently make adjustments to the plot. In the meantime, a cover needs to be designed and finalized. A designer needs to lay out the interior, back cover, and spine. The back cover includes a synopsis or elevator pitch for the story. This tantalizing piece of copyrighting will eventually be the book description displayed by online sellers. After every change is incorporated and the interior layout complete, a proofreader scrutinizes the modern equivalent of a galley proof. Now, it’s off to the printer … but not eReaders. The last step is professional eFormatting.

Front, spine, and back cover design

I’m involved with every step, but I prefer professionals do the design, editing, proofreading, and formatting. I’m just no good at it. I’m only a storyteller. 

Modern Wetsuits, A wonder and a Pain in the Butt

A few days ago, I posted that I was going to Pacific Beach to get in a little surfing. The first day was blown out (windy), but I did have a great day yesterday. Sunny, with glassy conditions and 2-3 foot waves. Small, but about the right size for this old man.

The water was cold, but my wetsuit kept me toasty. The problem was getting the suit and booties on and off. What a pain. The new suits make Plastic Man look inelastic. You try to pull them off and they just stretch, and heaven help you if you get them doubled-up. In fact, I had a hernia operation a few years ago I blamed on hurrying to get my suit off.




I long for the good ol' days of my youth when we just threw on a bathing suit and shivered while waiting for a wave. 

I'm not serious. I hate being cold. New wetsuit technology is a godsend, I'll just have to remain  patient and take my gear off one step at a time. But I do like summers when a bathing suit and chafe guard is all you need.

By the way, I was the body-double for the O'Neil Wetsuit above. I also caught a double-overhead yesterday. (I write fiction, which means I lie for a living.)

Pacific Beach, San Diego

My wife has flown to Omaha to do some tasks that have to do with spa colors, soothing music, and aromatherapy.  She’s helping my daughter open a pedicure spa. Since I can’t contribute anything but bad advice, I’m driving today to Pacific Beach to get in a little surfing.

You might want to visit my Surf Pinterest Board. There are some great shots and a couple videos.






Three people have asked if I will continue to work on The Return or just surf all day. Boy, does that make me feel good. In truth, two hours is all I need suit up, surf, and shower. At my age, you no longer make a day of surfing. Since six hours is a full day of writing for me, I think I can catch a few waves and still make progress on the next Steve Dancy Tale. Besides, I write better at the beach. Who wouldn’t be inspired by something like this?

It's All Good!

The difference between reality and imagination is an important distinction for me. Especially since I make my living writing fiction. The great thing about storytelling is that you can make up new friends and enemies, embellish the truth, or even bend time.

I started writing fiction when I was a consultant with a lot of idle time in hotels. After a stressful day, I could come back to my room and after a few minutes of writing I was completely at ease, transported to another place and time. The imaginative had become reality.

I'm seventy years old. My brain still feels fresh and young, but the reality is my body is sore and not always willing to do what I bid it to do. A while ago, I rode the wave in the top photograph. My son, with a little Photoshop magic, turned it into the bottom picture. I'd like to be able to ride a big wave, but in truth, I'm happy as punch to get any rides at all. A couple years ago, a ruptured disc made it impossible for me to get from my bed to the bathroom without a walker. Now, every wave is a blessing and I'm thankful I can still get up and down the hill to the beach. I have as much fun at my local beach break as I used to have in more challenging surf. Beside, I can always sit at my keyboard and imagine it to be whatever I want. 

And that's the point … it's all good.

(Here's a recent surfing video made with a GoPro.)