Trust your Gut: Be Surf

I woke up on Monday and hemmed and hawed about getting up to the beach but I knew based on the forecast and life it was the best day to go for the next week—offshore, low wind, not terribly cold. I figured if I just started putting on my wet suit though, I would inevitably find myself driving north. That worked (though if I hadn’t had it on when I went up to say bye to Nick, it would have been game over. He’d put the pink salt lamp and the fireplace space heater on and it was the coziest little walnut of a bedroom ever. It was a matter of fierce will not to forgo the whole plan!).

I looked out the window before I left and realized how foggy it was over the water.

Hmm I thought.

My hope was that it would somehow magically dissipate or somehow magically not be there when I hit the beach, but the highway was foggy and as I pulled onto 1A, I saw I couldn’t even see the water from the road. When I reached the beach, I couldn’t believe how socked in it was. I pulled up just north of Rest’s. and I could literally not see the waves. I could only see the water from them crashing to the shore.

Ergh, I thought. I’ll just walk down.

It was spooky as hell, white all around, like King’s The Mist. I walked to the edge of the water and strapped my leash on. I’d never felt so unsure about paddling out. There was Fear and Doubt and a feeling that it wasn’t a good idea.

I’ll just try for one or two, I thought. I paddled out and was completely unsettled. I could barely see my car and the houses on the shore—they were obscured by the thick white gauze of the fog. What complicated matters was I was fairly certain I wasn’t close to the rocks by Rest’s but it was so foggy I couldn’t even see boils on the water if I was close to rocks.

I nabbed two and went in. I definitely found my edge and it just seemed stupid to be out there alone when people couldn’t even see me. If I’d been with Maddie or Steph or someone, I might have felt a little better but I felt invisible and alone and blind.

I stood on the beach as the sun rose higher thinking Am I just being a scaredy cat? but your primitive body speaks to you in ancient wise tongues and I feel it’s important to listen. So I jumped in the car and headed home.

Saturday's Surf Sesh. Two words: AARon BrrrRRRR.

Newsflash: It wasn’t even that cold!

I met Maddie and her buddy Lou at LS at 9:30am yesterday. Absolutely NO wind and sun was shining. Temps read 20 something Fahrenheit and I’m not sure if it was the standing around a bit, the wet Wet Sox I’d put on at home or the fact that Google had lodged a nut in my head in the morning: The weather is 11 degrees but it feels like 2. Have nice day! that set me shivering early on.

I hadn’t been out in a couple weeks and so the already brutal paddle out felt heavier, and I felt slower. The currents were incredibly strong and sometimes I was paddling sideways. I did everything I could to avoid turtle rolling but that’s always a fools errand and lasted about five minutes. There was SO much water. We’d gotten a storm early this week and I think it just pushed a ton into the ocean.

After twenty minutes or so, I finally got through to the other side, not before I realized I’d been pulled a quarter mile down, toward Restaurants. Shit, I thought.

I made my way back to Maddie. The waves were big with surprisingly little push, meaning you had to commit to sitting right under the lip essentially to nab one. I was having trouble hanging with this and the waves were breaking inconsistently, and also often double waves, which was even more confusing.

Not going to lie.

It was a frustrating session for me.

I hate admitting that. I try to make surfing a place in my life that has no pressure to perform, to be anything other than what it is, but I really wanted to snag some waves yesterday and it just wasn’t my day. I was dropping too fast down the face when I caught them, I was NOT catching them because I was resisting how far in I had to be and then two hours in I was slipping from cold feet and just face planting right into the water.

It’s true that I was out with buds, the sun was shining, we were bobbing in the ocean. Overall, we were winning.

But I walked back out onto the shore thinking: I can’t go this long without being in the water again.

I thought about it as I drove home in my wetsuit (changing was not happening) and as I stood in the hot water of the shower and I recommitted to surfing. It quite literally is one of the sources of my power in my life and I need to be tapped in to it more. It’s my church.

YEW for silver linings.

Why I Self Published my Book Be Surf: A Surfer's Brief Manual for Living

We all entered contests when we were kids, I think, at least most of us. Inherent in those contests and competitions was the process of being judged, being evaluated. We often got numerical scores which told us if we did well or not, and even if we felt we had done very well FOR US, some old guy with gray hair who’d been judging gymnastics since the era of Nadia Comaneci, could tell us we did very poorly indeed.

But when it comes to my writing, I don’t want someone else to decide if I get to release my words into the world, and how. I don’t want to hold my breath and wait for the score.

There were many reasons why self publishing (aka independent publishing) was the path I chose when I released my book Be Surf and why it’s the path I plan to continue down for my future projects.

The primary one I’ve already alluded to: I’ve got things to say, and I don’t want someone else to determine if/when/how I have the right to say them. I have very little tolerance for feeling controlled or subdued in any way. I would have broken out of the barn every night if born a horse, and the idea of a committee judging my work and potentially blocking my path is anathema. It doesn’t work for me. It works lovely for so many others—thank God as it’s the main way I’ve encountered so many of the books I love—but it does not work for me.

Alongside that, I am an extremely impatient wild boar when it comes to doing something I want to do. With self publishing, if I wanted to release a book tomorrow (or like 72 hours), I could. The fact that with Be Surf there was nothing in my way for that, save a few formalities as I went through the uploading process, was amazing. And let’s be real—when it comes to our dreams (and writing has always been my dream), the fewer things cluttering our path and giving us a reason to make excuses like “I really should be putting away the laundry rather than writing”, the better. I began writing Be Surf in February or March 2020 and I published it end of August 2020.

Just to belabor this point even further: The idea of the traditional publishing cycle made me want to take a nap. I thought about the fact that I could work for a year or more to get a traditional deal, then work another year or more on the manuscript and I just couldn’t bear the thought.

Moreover (thank you, Merri Weinberg for teaching us all of the best transitions in AP English), I’ve always wanted to do things my way. It’s not necessarily better, but it’s mine. I feel on the outside I have always presented as a rule follower but the truth is, when it comes to the important stuff, I’ve always wanted to make my own rules. I have a father and a mother who abided their own ideas and I’m over the moon for that.

Take all this and add more transparency with sales and the feeling I can promote it in ways that feel authentic to me, and I thank the universe daily that this is the path I find myself on.

Additional resources:

If you’ve ever thought about writing a book but, like me, the thought of traditional publishing overwhelmed you, I suggest the following two books:

Joanne Penn, Successful Self-Publishing: How To Self-Publish An Ebook, Print Book And Audiobook

and

Helen Sedwick, Self-Publisher’s Legal Handbook

Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creating Living beyond Fear

Steven Pressfield, Turning Pro: Tap your Inner Power and Create your Life’s Work