"You're sharing the cover with the Archbishop," Kevin Ferris, my
Philadelphia Inquirer editor wrote.
"Honored," I said.
Because, well,
that's never happened before. And because this piece, on Beach Haven, off season, was a delight to both research (two nights at an inn, many walks through quiet streets, sunsets) and write.
What has Beach Haven become, these many months after the Super Storm? What does tenacity look like? How have the beaches been recombed, resifted, reshaped? What are the birds up to?
The link is
here.
The ocean is behind me as I type; the day has come in. I have been up since an early hour, at work again on Berlin. I arrived here anxious, late Tuesday night: Could I find my way to the end of this complex novel? Could I honor Tamra Tuller, who invited me to write this book for her—her faith a gift like none other? Many themes would have to find their way home. Two storytelling voices would have to hold their own. Tensions couldn't lag. Research (oh, so much uncountable research) could never be confused with plot. And don't forget love, which lies at this story's heart. Don't forget what it is to love, and to wait. Don't crowd that small big thing out with all that is Kreuzberg and Friedrichshain, Little Istanbul and Stasi paranoia, bratwurst vendors and David Bowie.
Writing here has meant rewriting here, taking things apart. It has required long walks and a settling in above the old laptop at 3 AM or 4 each day; I was here, after all, to write. I had better make use of the days. Clients await me. The final projects of my beloved Penn students. Reviews. A contest or two to judge. A son's graduation. Interviews.
Small Damages. If I couldn't do it here, I wouldn't do it at all. I felt the pressure immensely.
This morning, at this hour, the book isn't done. It is, however, intimately understood and my anxiety is gone. There will be a storm here later today; in the gray dawn outside the waves are churning. I will always be grateful to Beach Haven for letting me breathe, for restoring my own faith in me. And I will always be grateful to my husband, too, who gave me room to work, who heard me, weeks and weeks ago, when I said, "I'd give anything for just a few, spare writing days."
I can imagine how much you must crave this, a little time carved out just for one purpose.
I’m so happy you had it, and were able to make such good use of it.
Yay Beth! Knowing where you're going with the book has to be the most important thing. :)
That's wonderful that you were able to take some time to write, and in such a beautiful place too. That husband of yours is a keeper, as my mema would say. :)
This is a wonderful picture...and I love how dedicated you are, even though you are not sleeping.