Never turn your back on the ocean.
Why I’m following LL Bean isn’t that interesting (they’re based in Maine, so they post pictures of Maine, I’m using some of those pictures as reference images for setting) but “Never turn your back on the ocean” is a phrase that could launch a thousand short stories.
I abandoned a draft of a novel last year because publishing had ground my soul down to a little nub and screenwriting was proving more fruitful. But I just can’t quit you, long form writing, and I’m back in that draft, poking a stick at the body to see if there’s any life. (I’ve also been mainlining the first four seasons of THE WALKING DEAD and am apparently thinking in zombie terms.)
Images from LL Bean and elsewhere here.
The Mrs. Carter Show World Tour
Photo Credit: Yosra El- Essawy
"What I’m about to do now involves a good deal of pain," Aomame said in a voice without inflection. "It has to hurt for it to do any good. On the other hand, I can adjust the amount of pain. So if it hurts, don’t just bear it — speak up."
The man paused for a moment before saying, “If there is a pain I’ve never tasted, I’d like to try it.” This sounded mildly sarcastic to her.
"Pain is not fun for anybody."
"But a painful technique is more effective, is that it? I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning."
1Q84, Haruki Murakami (p437)
(This passage resonated, but resonated especially as a distance runner.)
— Chuck Klosterman (b.1972, American)
"She said "Oh" in an expiring sigh and then "Oh" again as he pulled her in close and his chin pushed her cheek around gently. They were both smiling just faintly and she was frowning too as the inch between them melted into darkness.
When they were apart she shook her head still but more in wonder than in denial. It came like this then, it was your own fault, how far back, when was the moment. It came like this and every instant the burden of tearing herself away from them together, from it, was heavier and more unimaginable. He was exultant; she resented and could not blame him but she would not be part of his exultation for it was a defeat. So far it was a defeat. And then she thought that if she stopped it being a defeat, broke off and went inside, it was still not a victory. Then it was just nothing.
"This was not my idea," she said. "Not my idea."
"Can I come in?"
"Oh no — no."
"Then let’s jump in the car and drive somewhere."
With relief she caught at the exact phrasing - to get away from here immediately, that was accomplishment or sounded like one - as if she were fleeing from the spot of a crime. Then they were in the car going down hill with the breeze cool in their faces and she came slowly to herself. Now it was all clear in black and white.
"We’ll go back to your house on the beach," she said.
"Yes - we’ll go back to your house. Don’t let’s talk. I just want to ride."
From The Love of the Last Tycoon, F. Scott Fitzgerald
It came like this then.
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