And she goes of into the wide world
Sitting here in the Portland Airport, by the window, watching SkyChefs load up an Alaska Airlines plane. Waiting for the red-eye to Atlanta, eating bacon and eggs for some odd reason – then a plane to New Orleans for my buddy Justin’s bachelor party. Then to Philly to do Greensaw work, and then up to NYC to meet with Kent. The Adak is loaded up with renters – god keep them safe and dry. Last guy I had in the fo’c’sle I had to give free nights to, whenever it dripped on his head while he slept. Seemed fair.
The book is done, the barrel is loaded, and I’m about to squeeze the trigger on this email, which is written, and addressed, and has the edited manuscript attached. And then it will be off, to a copy editor, and then onto the auction block to be yayed or nayed by the powers that be.
I take heart from good friends who are farther down this road than me. Getting off the plane in Seattle, gravitating as usual to the bookstore – and what should be there to greet me, but Suzanne’s The Other Typist, which has been blowing up, under the editorship of Amy Einhorn. And my good buddy Chris Bernard, who I shared a newspapering job with in Alaska, just published Chasing Alaska – which I have been traveling with, rereading. It’s wonderful, honest in a way that few books these days are. And there’s a chapter on the Adak, with a great picture of Cal and myself in front of the book. And Jen Pritchett, who has already published her work of short stories, At or Near the Surface, and Katey Schultz, whose inspired book Flashes of War is just now out – what courage you good folks have! I look forward to some good day joining your ranks. Here’s hoping it will be with this small offering. Which might – I hesitate to say it too loudly – which might actually be good. I know it will take months of a good editor hashing away at it, someone much farther from the work than me, or Kent, my agent, who has read the darn thing ten times with his sharp eye. But I think there’s something there. I really do. And this something has been made clearer by both my folks – how wonderful, at this age, to be blessed with two writer parents, who stay up late to struggle over comma placement (I just got off the phone with my father, who stayed up into the hours of the morning doing the umpteenth edit on the AK Laundry).
And that’s where stability lies – in friends, family, and the book. I’m about to send one off into the world on its own wee legs. And sitting down by this window, watching the men in dirty fluorescent green vests wave their orange batons, has helped me decide – I’ll give myself this last flight to do one more read. Then send it off in New Orleans, with my buddy Justin alongside – Justin who has gotten my back for near-on two decades now. I’d be lying if I say I didn’t have have a list of those who believed, and those who didn’t. Justin’s right about at the top of the first.
And that means the world.
