I was at Epoch for a writing sprint with Rebecca Schwarz, and afterwards I went over to Blue Velvet to window shop because they weren’t open yet, the slackers. In the window artfully arrayed were three books. One was Flash, about a mustang, which yes, I had read. There was a vintage Harlequin too, and then off to the right, the treasure, the grand prize, the book for which the heavens opened and the angels cried hosanna! Robb White’s Secret Sea.
Naturally I came back later when they opened and plunked down 50 cents for a piece of my childhood.
I read this very same edition. It’s a Scholastic. I devoured Robb White‘s books as a kid. He’s the Heinlein of the sea. (Both were Navy; appear to be contemporaries; does anyone know if they knew of one another?) When I write short, declarative sentences like this, and throw in random observations, it is obvious how excited I am about this.
Finding this book makes today a good day, and that’s even after the 1,000 words today and the 2,000 yesterday.