#14. A thoroughly Floridian pirate

the second in a series on what it's like to write a book

The new novel is progressing. That makes it sound like the story is writing itself. Which isn’t right. At times I’m pushing it forward. Then it feels like it actually is rolling on its own, and I’m chasing behind it down the hill, typing madly to keep up.

Or maybe I’m just drinking too much coffee? Extra dark French roast at the moment. I know that’s not coffee-culture-cool, but it’s the house preference. Mixed up my music, too, switching from Irish traditional to electronic stuff.

Now on to the focus of this note. I’m a big proponent of research, and during a recent visit to see my parents in Florida, I arranged a trip to a noted pirate museum. I had everything all set up. The plan was to rent a car at the airport, drive a few hours north to the museum, soak up some pirate wisdom, fly out of Jacksonville. When I arrived at the rental car office, though, the line was twenty people deep. I’m patient. I waited.

Soon the two gentlemen in front of me started complaining. One was getting a little hot. The other was just trying to be friends with the angry dude. His name was Chip. He wore large glasses and a fanny pack.

A pirate at a rental car agency, by DALL-E. Apparently he has three arms.

After about twenty minutes, the overworked and overstressed desk clerk declared that once we did get to the front of the line, the wait for a car would be two hours.

A woman then pushed through the glass doors and, unaware of the announcement a moment before, declared that she’d been waiting for three hours. Where was her car?

Pandemonium! I’m allergic to angry people, so I slipped out. Sure, I wanted to see this museum. I didn’t think the research would change my story much, but I was excited to gather the little details that make a story feel real. Still, I couldn’t hang around in that office any longer. So I bailed.

Car rental parks are often situated in the middle of industrial nowhere lands, and this was no exception. I slipped through a narrow gate and climbed over a low fence. There was nowhere to stand and wait for a car, though, so I figured I’d have to hike my way back to the airport for a proper pickup spot.

Then a minivan rolled to a stop. The passenger window rolled down, and Chip leaned out. “Hey, you were in line with me, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Not a great spot to stand. Need a ride to the airport?”

Now I know you’re not supposed to get into cars with strangers, but Chip and his wife, who was driving, were just so friendly, and I love minivans, and the speed limit was pretty low, so I figured I could open the door and roll out the way they do in movies if things got weird. And they didn’t . . . or not that weird, anyway. I mean, there was a chihuahua. Tons of cleaning materials. I’m not sure Chip’s wife said anything, but he talked a ton. And I can’t figure out why he was renting a car if his wife was waiting nearby in a minivan.

Anyway, we weren’t a minute into the ride when I realized my research trip wasn’t such a disaster after all. I didn’t need a pirate museum. I had Chip! He was going to be a perfect addition to one of my fictional pirate crews. He’d make a delightfully unique treasure hunter: friendly, small, inexplicable, surprisingly resourceful at odd moments.

So thanks, Chip, for the ride and the idea, and good luck with whatever it is you’re actually looking for...

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• The paperback of Atlantis: The Brink of War is available now! If your kids, nieces, nephews, or students haven’t read the sequel to the Atlantis novel, it’s perfect summer reading. And it’s funnier than the first one. I’m particularly proud of the penultimate chapter.

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