Sunday, October 06, 2024

Tropical Nights


 For reasons that I cannot explain, an intense spell of really hot weather alters my mood and my orientation as a writer. This is going to sound crazy, but as the temperature rises, my interest in facts declines and I’m drawn much more to fiction.

I’m bringing this up because we are experiencing an unusually persistent heat wave in Northern California. The temperatures have reached well into the 90s and even over 100 in some places. I’ve got the windows open, the fan on high and a tumbler of ice water, but the heat is having its way with me.

I’ve just got to make stuff up.

That’s no doubt why I abandoned the campaign trail to publish my short story, “Tidelines” a few days ago. The heat sent me digging through old files to locate fiction I wrote while in the tropics decades ago.

Tidelines seeks a different kind of truth.

The story focuses on the instinct for escape, the risks of the unknown, the impulse to surrender to suicidal thoughts, the fog of addiction, the insatiable power of new attractions, the scarring from repeated losses, the excitement of exploration, the resilience of hope and faith, the overwhelming intricacy of our ecosystems and, in the end, the dilemma posed by pure, unrestrained beauty — both of the people in our lives and our vulnerable planet.

In real life, I’ve experienced some of these things, come close to others and imagined the rest.

I guess you could call it environmental fiction. Or you might write it off as an aberration due to some combination of the sporadic recurrence of the typhoid fever that almost killed me in India, global warming, and the sensuous memory of long, hot tropical nights with a lover, all of which were not confined to my dreams.

I’ll get back to the election tomorrow.

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