To have your first book be your bestseller is not a good career arc, but it is mine. 

        STORM PASSAGE was originally published by Times Books, then owned by the NY TIMES, who did a better job promoting it than subsequent publishers did with subsequent books. 

        When more than thirty years later, I put out Kindle editions of five of my books, STORM PASSGE sold more than all the others combined, until a couple of Amazon reviewers called it “stupid.”

        A while ago I was contacted by a publisher in Norway who wants to publish STORM PASSASAJE, as I think it will be called, there.  I signed the contract last week.  I am not expecting great wealth.  I am pleased.

        When I proofread the scans of my books for the Kindle editions, STORM PASSAGE was the one I was most tempted to rewrite; but I didn’t, believing it should be left true to the immediacy of the experience and the sailor and writer I was then, not filtered by whatever I am now.

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        I do not like to workout.  I do so because I like the way I look and feel better when I do, and because my life has sometimes depended on strength and endurance, and may again.

        I circle each day I workout so that I can’t deceive myself about the number of times.         

        Generally I’m pretty good at keeping to a schedule, which allowing for legitimate excuses should total at least one hundred a year.  I’m not going to make it this year.  A couple of eye surgeries and my time on GANNET in San Diego, when I only went through the routine once, are going to leave me around ninety.

        My routine is simple and requires no equipment, so I can perform it anywhere, even on GANNET--when I’m not painting her deck.

        Over the years I’ve stopped touching my toes and changed from sit-ups to crunches because of my back.  Some decades ago I settled on doing 150 push-ups and crunches in sets of 70, 40, 40, interspersed with 250 knee-bends in sets of 60, 40, 150, preceded by some stretching and followed by 100 side leg raises each leg.

        I’ve always been pleased that I can do my age in push-ups.  When I first settled on this routine 70 was a very remote number.  Well, today I have to do one more.  I am confident I can do 71.  But don’t know how long this can go on.

        Yesterday on my birthday, Carol and I went to see SKYFALL, the latest James Bond, which deservedly has been called one of the better Bond films, with a pretty good plot, beautiful women, amusing chase scenes, spectacular explosions, and a couple of original twists.  As in most Bond films, James ends up with a woman in his arms.  In SKYFALL it is a most unexpected woman.

        Unexpected gifts came from readers on opposite coasts.

        Chris on the east emailed that although we have never met, through my writing he feels that he knows me better than many people he sees every day.  What more could a writer ask?

        Scott, whose boat is across the dock from GANNET in San Diego, sent a poem I had never read.

     SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,

    Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain,

    See aged Winter, ’mid his surly reign,

    At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow.

    So in lone Poverty’s dominion drear,

    Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart;

    Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part,

    Nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear.

    I thank thee, Author of this opening day!

    Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies!

    Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys—

    What wealth could never give nor take away!

    Yet come, thou child of poverty and care,

    The mite high heav’n bestow’d, that mite with thee I’ll share.

   

    Sonnet on the Author’s Birthday by Robert Burns

       

        I thank them.

        You will not be surprised that the day ended with a sip of Laphroaig.

        Skol.