The best things about this morning's surf were that it was a lovely dawn and I had plenty of time to think. The swell fell a lot since yesterday and the dropping low tide didn't help matters. No one else even bothered to paddle out. Rideable waves were few and far between, and when one made a rare appearance I was never in the right place - but near enough a few times to get up and ride.
The impossibly long lulls gave me ample time to muse on the young adult fantasy novel I've started writing, about a surfer girl named Nerina who's given ocean-related superpowers by a merman. The working title is
Marinea and the Fountains of the Farallones. While I bobbed in the sea, I cycled through an alphabet of last names until I found one suitable for the villain of the story.
To keep my book on track, I joined a writers' group that meets weekly to review each other's work, up to 3500 words. At last night's meetup, one of the women said she found it unbelievable that a teenage girl would be out surfing all by herself. As I explained that it's not really uncommon to surf solo, she talked over me:
Her: Well, I guess some young people think they're invincible -
Me: I surfed alone this morning.
Her: - and some older ones too.
It seems strange that she would think the ocean is such a scary place no one would dare go out alone. Sure, there are times when it wouldn't be prudent, but not
all times. And today, despite the dearth of surf, I was content to float alone with my thoughts, enjoying sunshine on my face and the occasional fleeting company of low-flying pelicans.