Month: April 2020

Loopholes Discovered in Carolina Beach

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Today was a big step for Simonne kind in this new normal world.

Carolina Beach is “open,” inasmuch as you can’t sit or play games on the beach, but you can walk, jog, surf, and paddleboard, socially distanced of course.

Oh, and there’s no public parking available. Everything is roped off.

As usual, I found loophole. Public parking might be closed, but the town’s press release said nothing about parking at the chain grocery store and walking a mile to the strand. And that’s exactly what I did with free parking to boot!

I wore a cloth mask I found on Etsy without sunglasses so if I was caught in a “circumstance,” I could at least communicate with my eyes. I walked towards the North End, but even the public beach access had boards nailed across the wooden path. I knew one spot that would be open. I chose to willfully ignore the laminated “No Entry/No Access” signs and smiled at the pedestrian gap in the traffic barrels with rope. And before I knew it, I was back on the beach. My heart sang it was so happy! I walked a couple of miles and encountered only four other humans.

Also, masks get really hot after a few miles on foot.

It was surreal to be on the beach on such a nice day without crowds. The waves looked decent, but I’d have to wear a wetsuit and would have no where to stash my bag and towel – that was illegal too – let alone carrying a six foot surfboard several miles. I stopped by the Boardwalk in search of curbside ice cream and it looked like a post-zombie apocalypse had occurred. There was no ice cream.

I’m pleased to report no encounters with the law.

It made me sad to think this year I might not experience my “Summer Sundays.” Last year, early afternoon on bright sunny summer Sundays, I would drive to Carolina Beach. I’d walk to the store “Go Sauce Yourself” on the Boardwalk and buy a beer – usually “Come Hell or High Watermelon” (which is basically summer in a can) – and take it with me in my beach bag. I’d spent the afternoon sitting – Sabbathing if you will – on the beach, sipping beer, and taking a dip in the ocean. I’d read, let my mind wander over the waves, and recharge with solar energy. If I was feeling especially crazy, I would get ice cream on my way home. I’d only be out there for a couple of hours.

Wait, you’re probably thinking, alcohol is illegal on the beaches here!

Well, there’s a loophole about southern culture that I’ve learned from all my years here: it’s quite gilded (which means a cheap metal is painted in a gold coat to give the appearance of solid gold, but obviously isn’t – appearance trumps everything). As long as you hide the alcohol, and aren’t disturbing the peace with your public drunkenness, no one cares. I had a koozie over the beer can, thus hiding what it was, so I was safe. I find this hilarious. If I ran Carolina Beach, I’d have patrols looking in everyone’s coolers and write enough alcohol citations to fund the town’s annual budget.

But I’m not, so I will gladly enjoy a beer. Obviously, I’m not anywhere near intoxicated.

The fact of the matter is even if the stay at home orders are lifted, our lives will be different for some time to come. Church says we hope to be meeting again by mid-May, and even if that is the case, it’s far too soon for me. I can socially distance myself at the beach – heck, I’ve been doing it for fourteen years now, but I don’t know what the summer holds or how long this virus will linger. I’ll just keep checking for loopholes and keep a low profile. As I do.

No Wake Zone

On By SimonneBraden2 Comments

When I first moved to Wilmington, the biggest draw for me was the ocean. I got a surfboard and quickly learned the ways of the ocean. Most of my weekends are spent on the sand or in the water. The ocean grounds me. She’s a capricious mistress, as I found out the hard way by nearly dying in heavy seas, but her ebb and flow speak to my soul.

When I first moved here my co-worker gave me pause: she never left an AC-controlled environment all summer long. “Go to the beach?” she said in an exasperated tone, as if I suggested trudging through a swamp at dusk, “Why? It’s hot, the blazing sun’s out, there’s bugs, and you get sand everywhere. Ew. No thanks.” I come to find out, many of my fellow Wilmingtonians never went to the beach. I really fell off my rocker when I learned many children here never experienced a day at the beach with their family and the kids in the poorer sections of town had never seen the ocean. I was not prepared for that. I thought everyone here would go to the beach!

I couldn’t imagine not going to the beach. I visit the beach in winter, too, and I feel a difference in my soul when it’s been weeks since I get to the strand. When we were house hunting and contemplating an area more inland, I noticed the difference in the air and temperature once I got away from the ocean and I didn’t like it. I’m glad my house is only a few miles as the crow flies from the Atlantic. I couldn’t have it any other way.

And now, because of the virus quarantine protocols, they have closed the beaches. “$@%,” I said when I saw the news. I know why they’re doing it and I agree with why they’re doing it. My head knows it, but my heart doesn’t.

The worst part about being in the medical community is that it erases all hope. It’s so much easier to hang onto hope and look beyond the reality of a situation without medical knowledge. Our dear leaders keep saying things will turn around “another week or so,” but it doesn’t work that way, no matter how much they say it. Once I saw the beaches close, I knew it would be for months, not merely weeks, and my surfing and beach time was now an act against the law.

I’m a law-abiding citizen. Cops and I have never gotten along well, so it is everything I can do to keep them away. Despite this, I started trespassing on private property, however, in a desperate attempt to find a place near by house to access the Intracoastal Waterway. All of my attempts were thwarted by guard dogs and scary looking “NO TRESPASSING” signs. I was successful in finding one spot – again, technically I am trespassing because I do not do not own property in this neighborhood – but a kind elderly gentleman said it would be okay. This is as close as I can get to the beach nowadays.

A summer without the beach? I’m hesitant to think about it too much.

Wrightsville Beach opened today, but alas, public parking is not allowed and I’m not desperate enough for 20 mile walk round trip. I hope other beaches will open. I know enough honey holes on the island to be far, far away from the crowds (especially for illegally suntanning). I’m contemplating buying a backpack for my surfboard so I can easily carry it down the beach, if I have to walk a mile or so. I’ve also shopped around for kayaks, but the 2 mile walk to the public dock with kayak in tow has me rethinking that plan.

“Give us this day our daily bread,” says the Lord’s prayer. We don’t live that way in modern America, but I have a feeling that I will be living like that more often than not in the days to come.

I hope that bread is full of vitamin sea.

Writing Retreat, Day 2

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14 March 2020

I woke up to sunlight streaming through my window and drinking coffee out of can. It’s not my preferred way to enjoy a cuppa, as the cute indy cafe down the street called my name before all the virus stuff hit, but it was certainly better than what the hotel provided.

I headed out to the beach for a run. There were a decent amount of people out there, but I managed to avoid them all. I promised myself 20 minutes out and 20 minutes back. It was a perfect morning on the strand with bright sun and cool temps. I savored ever moment, as I knew this could be the last time I’d get to do this for awhile. My husband was almost certain we’d be under quarantine orders soon. I returned nearly an hour later, showered, and got myself settled with a glass of wine at the wobbly desk with that sliver view of the ocean, ready to write the first chapter.

A friend popped up in my inbox with an urgent edit for a newsletter for a non-profit, so I did that. I wasn’t as quick as I thought I would be, but as it turned out, it was the perfect exercise to get into writing mode.

The good Lord knows what you need.

Like starting all things, it took a moment to get going, as I had to research my opening line. I didn’t get started on the book until 1pm, much later than I anticipated – two chapters wasn’t going to happen, so I only focused on one. The story I had to tell was very linear, and I had the details – although they jumped around, as my interviewee’s ADD kicked in. My pre-writing was the notes from the interview, I probably should have organized the thoughts in a true pre-writing fashion, but by taking them organically, it all came together.

A few hours later, I was in need of more wine and food after I got about half way through. Word count was rising and I felt good about the content. I took a break to watch the world burn on cable news and checked in on my husband back home. I picked up the story where I left off and the words kept coming. It flowed like a brook over stones. I finally stopped a little after midnight, the story wrapped up in a bow, the chapter complete.

In 11 hours, I had pushed out 3,700 words.

As I snuggled into sleep, another idea popped up, so I quickly scribbled that down. I had to force myself to go to sleep and stop thinking about the chapter. I turned off the laptop so I wouldn’t be tempted to copy edit.

Outside of downloading the writing program Scrivener, locking myself in a hotel room to write was one of the best things I’ve ever done as a writer.

I can’t wait to do it again.

Writing Retreat, Day 1

On By SimonneBraden1 Comment

13 March 2020

I’m holed up in a hotel in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, with a partial ocean view. I can see a sliver of the ocean from the corner of the room where I write, but it was a cheap hotel. I’ve stayed in worse, I’ve stayed in better – but for what it is, it’ll work. Between the ocean waves, the loud cars on the strip, and the drunken tourists, it’s everything I thought it would be.

I turned off the AC unit and opened the sliding glass door to my balcony and it’s made all the difference. Cityscape noise is a great background to writing for me.

My goodness, I need to be in Paris!

I almost cancelled this trip because of the coronaviruus. I had my cafes, restaurants, and bars planned out – but I scrapped all that for meals I can make in a microwave to avoid the public and a bottle of wine. Still, I don’t think anyone got the memo there is a pandemic of epic proportions underway.

I’m basically self-quarantining in a hotel, after wiping down every surface in here with bleach wipes.

I’m surprised there are so many people here. My favorite so far were the twenty year old couple from a college in Michigan who didn’t realize the hotel had age restrictions when booking for spring break. I think they got it all sorted out with the help of parents.

I received some unexpected good news my first night: my first ever book proposal was submitted to a publishing world person to read – and it came back to me copy edited! COPY EDITED! I thought I was going to get the “No publishing company would ever read this drivel” or “It’s okay for a start, but….” and instead it came back with copy edits. I want to cry I am so happy! I’m doing my best not to get a fat head over it.

Tonight was a warm up with some wine and light writing. Tomorrow the real stuff begins – writingthe first two chapters. I have all my pre-writing research done, it’s just a matter of spinning the words into chapters.

But I’ll do all that after coffee, breakfast, and a beach run.