Laughable Progress

I’ve been working on a story since September.

It’s about a hotel in Suffolk, England. A crazy ghost that thinks it’s a dog is freaking guests and staff members out, running amok and ruining tourism in the small seaside village. No one can work out why a see-through boy that runs like a ribbon in the wind is barking at people from the shadows of an old beach hut. A hall porter from South Africa unsuspectingly solves the mystery when he organizes a county wide Frisbee contest that lasts until midnight.

It’s been on my list of things to finish for the last two months. Every time I look at the manuscript I get more annoyed with myself for putting it off. Not that anyone besides my parents, brothers and friends are likely to read it, but I like to keep busy.

So I’m in St Francis this week on a serious working retreat. I was up at 4:30 this morning; wolfing down mugs of coffee and dissecting my broken story.
I wanted to see progress by the end of today.

At around 16:00 I took stock of the time, my supposed progress and how much I’d eaten since morning. Over the course of the day, I’d put back 6 hot-cross buns, a pack of 2-minute noodles, 3 salad rolls, a pie, 2 Energades and smoked a pack of Lucky Strike Lights. I needed to do some exercise- my story had just gotten more complicated and less easy to reassemble. The fresh air was needed.

So I loaded the car and raced down to Seals for a quick surf.
It was small and cold, but producing the odd 3 foot set with the pushing tide.
I bounced through the channel and took the long way round to get warmed up.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that my surfing has been a bit shoddy of late. A year in England has done as much for my tan as it has for my physical ability as a surfer.
But I felt ready to change that when I saw a sleek two footer come my way, doubling up nicely over full stop. I planned to unleash a ninja attack on the face of this wave, comparable to Jet Lee and Jackie Chan’s best work.

But none of that happened. I fell as the wave sucked over the shelf, cut my foot and snapped my board. I wish I had a really manly story to attach to this, but the truth is so outrageously simple. No ninja glory. No decent exercise done. Story and surfboard broken.

I sure am glad I can laugh at myself. At least I might finish my silly story now :)