PRIORITY

    Distraction is my nemesis, especially concerning my novels. I have allowed all the outside disturbances of travelling, settling in and exploring, travelling again, now finding a new place, to distract me. So as much as I love writing my blog each day, I have decided to cut back on the number of them. Starting today I will only write this blog on Monday and Thursday. The rest of the week I will concentrate on my novels, for they are my true passion and creative outlet. I must prioritize my time and move forward on the revisions of my second novel and the creation of my third. To give you a taste of this passion, here is the first scene in my current project, The Luminarian Prophecy.

CHAPTER 1

    It's coming. I can sense it. Anticipation surges through my veins like the cool water surging beneath my belly. Flat against the board, I concentrate on my ultimate pursuit. The perfect wave.

    A nudge from behind sends my heart into my throat as fear pulsates up my spine. Visions of my supreme nightmare dance through my head. Old timers call them the men in grey suits, I call them sharks. Taking a giant gulp, I glance over my shoulder. A long snout, framed by sharp white teeth, materializes beneath the blue green water. Head bobbing, its entire body thrusts into the air. A gleeful sound escapes the open mouth and combines with my laughter as it glides across the ocean like a long board on an epic swell. A smile creases my lips as I say, "Very funny, Wiley." His twinkling eyes reemerge and his dolphin laughter echoes off the surf, taking immense pleasure in his joke. Like Wile E. Coyote, my favorite cartoon character, my friend is the ultimate trickster. Especially in the early morning when the surf is high and we have the ocean all to ourselves.

    Tag number 2256 glistens from his right fin, identifying him as a member of the local pod my mom studies. But more importantly, he's my pal. Much easier to be friends with dolphins than humans. They don't judge. Popular or loner, normal or different, his friendship is blind. He just likes to tease.

    As he disappears into the vastness of the Atlantic once more, my attention draws back to the waves and I paddle forward in quick even strokes. In one fluid motion, my chest and head rise from the board and my feet fly up from beneath me. Arms flapping like bird wings, I search for the perfect balance spot as my feet tap a classic cross step along the length of the deck.

The wave thrusts me forward, just ahead of the soup, and I carve a path into the perfect spot. I ease up. Like walking on water I glide towards shore. My feet skip across the board with a choreographed dance I've performed hundreds of times before. Every nerve, every cell is amped.

In too short an order, the ride ends and my toes shift with the slightest twist, the board bouncing above the chasing wave. My feet sink into the calm waters and the final surge slips by. I savor the final morsels of the ride for it is time to call it a day.

I pop the leash from my ankle and grab my board before spying---down the coast---the tanned six-pack abs and sleek chest of 'Mr. Perfect Surfer.' As if he's climbed down from a billboard for Ron Jon's Surf Shop, his long tanned legs maneuver across his board like a pro. At the shore he steps out of the surf and waves. My stomach jumps as I return the greeting. I take a deep gulp of air and push the sensations down before jogging to his exit point. His toothy grin greets me then his face turns serious as he trots forward. "Hey, did you see that dude out in the water?" The wind captures his words and blows them at the highway.

    "What?"

    "That dude?" He points towards the line where two guys float in the lull, straddling their boards. The obnoxious floral trunks announce their old timer status for they will never acknowledge that the Hawaiian look went out with the movie "Endless Summer?"

"You mean those two geeks we call our dads?" I say.

Rain shakes his head not taking my bait. "No, this dude was scuba diving right under me. He came up and tried to grab my board." His wavy blonde curls bob up and down as he continues to point. I'm reminded of Wiley.    

    "Sure it wasn't the dolphin? He was teasing me again this morning."

    "No it was a scuba diver." He jogs next me, his board tucked under his right arm. "One minute he was there and the next he was gone." His eyes wander over the waves. "He must have come in down shore since the only boat around is that yacht out on the horizon."

    I squint, following his finger out over the foamy surface, but nothing catches my eye except the frothy white surf against the turquoise backdrop. "Maybe he was trying to catch a ride," I say with a laugh.

    He frowns with concern. "Hope he's okay." As if a switch clicks in his brain, my surfer friend's focus shifts and without a backward glance he changes the subject. "Do you think it'll be okay if I leave my board in your Mom's office again today? I'd rather not wait for Dad."