Getting to the 43rd and Collins parking lot was a lot harder than usual because I accidentally took 195 instead of 395.
The eastern part of South Beach was completely gridlocked. There was a serious car wreck on 195 by Star Island, which shut down the entire east-bound side of the highway.
The tow truck with one of the wrecked cars drove behind me. The entire front of the car was caved in, windows broken, side doors crumpled, and the front of the car was filled with the car’s bumpers that the cops probably shoved in.
The driver was either at the hospital or morgue.
The traffic was at a standstill all the way back to South Beach, up Alton, and Down 5th.
So, even though I was going towards the beach, not away from it, I still had to sit in line among those who were avoiding the 195 drama by going North.
Eventually made it to 43rd and the beach. Greeted some homeless, avoided some junkies, and almost tripped over a seagull.
Read an interesting entry in one of my creative writing books by CJ Box. It follows:
Open Season, then titled Joe Pickett after my game warden protagonist, was completed in manuscript form four years before it was acquired by Putnam. In the four years between completion and sale, an agent was supposedly showing it around, but I never really confirmed that. For an entire year I heard nothing, and for good reason: he had died. No one told me.
My editor overheard a (living) agent talking about Open Season in a bar during a writer’s conference. She asked the agent for a look at the manuscript. Before leaving the publishing industry for good to seek honest employment, the agent passed along the inquiry to me.
Of course, previous to this, I had written three full unpublished novels and an unfilmed screenplay. My children did not know I wrote because I didn’t want them to think of their dad as a failed novelist. They didn’t know I wrote fiction until I had a book contract.
Just your typical 20-year overnight success story.
CJ Box is at http://www.cjbox.net/.
