@ NACHO:
Estoy contigo para traducir Burn. Que pasa con Google Translate?? Lo unico complicado es que esta comunidad estara distribuida en pedazos…

Hablamos
P.

What is that squeak anyway? That’s when being at the beach always become real for me. Those first footsteps on the fine upper sand.

Perfect! ;^}

MRS.ETTA JAMES is going upstairs…safe travels my dear…

i moved to OBX because i am just meant to be here…most likely because it was my favorite childhood home…i moved around a lot when i was a kid, but the beach (just north of here)just electrified my life immediately…just the sea…the smell of it, the sound of it, the feel of it tossing me around when i swam, the whole bit…the beginning and end of life seem to fit just right by the sea…

and…

i fit in…i can be the full on redneck fugitive from society that i really am!

So David, why the hell did you move to the Outer Banks?

I’d love to hear more.

makes sense…will try…thanks

does sand only squeak at certain temperatures? or is it types of sand? these are things to think about.

well, i hope so…

by the way, i will be in nyc soonest…like in a few days…to work on the wall with rio…stop by…and somewhere in there we can go over your piece….make sense?

where are you? squeaking sand is good..i am going to steal that one…i mean how could i not think of squeaking sand?…it is the MAIN THING

just teasing with Imants..of course, and i am writing…mostly i “feel” a lot about OBX..after all, this is my fav spot…writing about it is the problem…as Alan says , i am thinking too much about being a writer and the “audience”…i should just write it for you all here…that would be easy…funny about this stuff…same as for shooting….

exactly

I know the feeling well. But don’t worry: The tide will go out… and the block will fade away….

If it persists, though, here’s a trick to loosen up: At the top of the page, write “Dear [insert name of a close friend here]….” Then imagine that friend — who is visiting you from New York City — is sitting with you on your porch, drinking a beer. “So, David,” the friend says, “why the hell did you move down here? In the winter, no less! It’s cold! There’s nothing here but sand, surf, and a bunch of locals! And nothing to do! No theater or museums or fancy parties or media bigshots! You’re wasting your time here, Harvey! You could be in New York City, man!” … You smile & take a swig of beer. “You don’t understand, my friend. You don’t appreciate this place because you can’t see beyond the surface. You think your eyes will lead you to the soul of a place — or a person. But they don’t. They can’t. Hey, did I ever tell you about the amazing thing that happened down here during the hurricane? …. ” And then you’re off & writing, telling stories I bet you don’t have on film. Stories that will reveal a little of the soul of the place — and maybe a bit of your soul, too. … Just remember to delete that first line before you send the manuscript to your editor. :-)

Yeah, I know — it’s a silly gimmick. But that block often arises because you’re thinking about the audience instead of thinking about what you want to say. Writing to friends, to people you trust, can loosen you up, especially if you’re writing about yourself. … If nothing else, this blog is proof that when you’re relaxed, you have no trouble figuring out what to say or how to say it in a personal & eloquent way.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: Your editor doesn’t want you to be John McPhee; your editor wants you to be David.

best,
Alan

P.S. Photography ain’t easy. My pictures are proof.