Down at the Fish Pier

I had to get up earlier than usual this morning to take the trash out and go buy a trash sticker. I didn’t do it last night and so... it was a good thing. Today is beautiful - clear, dry, cool with the promise of heat later in the day. Sparkling sunshine. I bought coffee and a Boston Globe with the trash sticker and went down to the state fish pier to read the paper.

I love the fish pier. I wrote the first draft of my second novel there and rewrote many of my short stories. It is hard not to write the fish pier into these works because it is so intense and immediate when you are there. This morning men had yards and yards and yards of thick rope spread out in huge, looping trails all along the pier and they were repairing worn places. The herring boats were out but a couple gill netters were in and the gulls were going mad swirling around them in high, squawking clouds dive bombing the nets for tasty tidbits.

All the piers and landings have been piled high with lobster traps all summer. A sign that the lobstering must be bad - as it often is in July. But this morning I saw a few boats headed out loaded down with traps. Either someone is very optimistic or very broke. I never knew how rough and complicated lobstering is until I met Mark and began working on his book with him.

We had one of our famous head-butts yesterday. He is getting impatient with his book and just wants to get it printed and move on to the next one. I am annoyed by that because it needs tightening up, trimming down, and one more good, hard edit before it is ready to send off in my opinion. He says his friends have read it and tell him it is fine the way it is and they are eager to buy it. I tell him if he wants a bigger audience than his friends he needs to work a little harder at it before it is ready. He doesn’t want to hear that.

As long as there have been book publishers there have been vanity presses - the sorts of places people go to have books printed at their own expense just for the vanity of having them out there. Now, because of the abysmal state of publishing, and the emergence of new technology, the micro-press has been born. Parlez-Moi Press is an example of that. I know I can’t compete with Random House but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to accept lesser quality. While we were squabbling I told him maybe he should just take his manuscript to a vanity press and pass it out to his friends.

So I am sitting at the fish pier thinking about all this. These men perform arduous work when they pull those huge nets off the back of their boats, spread them out - acres and acres of them - and examine every part for a flaw that could mean lost catch when they are floating out in the ocean. They walk up and down the pier examining the nets foot by foot and, when they find a damaged place, they take out their tools and repair it. There is a lesson in that.

My father used to say “good enough isn’t.” I believe that - at least where writing is concerned. Good enough doesn’t exist. It is either the best it can be or it isn’t.

I don’t know how this situation with Mark will be resolved. I love the way he writes but I want him to be more particular and discerning in his prose. But I cannot make him want something that he doesn’t want for himself. There is a lesson in that, too.

So I leave the fish pier and the men mending their nets and I come home to begin my day’s work. I will try to do the best I can today and repair the weak places and hope for the best.

Thanks for reading.