Today’s the day!
It’s official! Adrift launched today and I am beyond excited.
I had planned to mark the occasion by diving with friends and family on the Spiegel Grove in Key Largo. Alas, the wind and weather didn’t cooperate. (Notice the fleece. While the rest of the country may be bundled in Arctic-worthy duds, I assure you a fleece is not typical Keys attire.) Doesn’t matter. Instead of blowing bubbles, we’ve moved the celebration topside.
Today I want to share an edited version of my acknowledgements. There is a misconception that writing is a solitary endeavor. Let me assure you, it is not. I could not have realized this dream without the support, inspiration, and occasional kick in the rear from several people.
The day I graduated from the police academy, I held up my hand and swore an oath to uphold the public trust. I was issued a gun, the keys to a patrol car, and a pen. I should have read the small print. Police work isn’t just about fighting crime; it’s about documenting it. And so began my life as a professional writer. After years of describing the misdeeds of miscreants, I thought writing fiction would be easy. After all, how hard could it be to make stuff up?
Turns out, it’s more difficult than it appears. Although no divers were harmed in the making of this story, I did kill a few bottles of wine with the people who helped me bring Adrift to life.
Like most tales, Adrift began with a kernel of truth. Key Largo, Florida, is a real town. There are divers who search for paranormal activity. The Spiegel Grove is an actual (and fantastic) dive site. On the flip side, Hurricane Moby won’t be found on the list of suitable storm names issued by the National Hurricane Center. The Bilge bar doesn’t exist. And the humor that bleeds through in my dialogue would never have been tolerated in a police report.
Huh. Maybe writing fiction is easier, after all.
Thank you all for sharing this momentous milestone with me.