The big writing project I've been doing is a young adult, contemporary version of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing called Not Much To Do About Surfing. What does this have to do with standup paddling? Actually quite a bit, because this book takes place at a surf camp in Florida. One of the main characters, Bee, is a standup paddler. So yeah. Here's an excerpt from chapter 1:
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Bee sloshed into the water. It was cool and sweet, and with the stars up above and their reflections below her, Bee felt like she was paddling through starlight. Gorgeous, simply gorgeous, she thought, ‘cause she wanted to feel good, really. Surfing always made Bee feel good, even when… No, stop. It’s time to surf, not worry. She stood on top of her board and paddled beyond the breakers. Once past the foam Bee spun her board around. She caught the next wave that came along then crouched into her surf stance. The board slid down the wave front and with a little pressure from her heel turned to the left. Nice! Then it was pure zip for a hundred yards. When the wave collapsed into mush, Bee flipped the board around and started all over.
A good run, a really good run, thought Bee. It almost enough to make me forget HE was coming. Bee had tried to bury that knowledge down deep, that thought that made her so mad she didn’t know what to do. So that feeling just sat there and festered. And no matter how much fun Bee was having, nothing could change that. Nothing. He was coming. Here. To her home. It was like a jellyfish sting, a nagging pain that just wouldn’t go away, no matter what.
Yup, Bee’s week was about to be ruined. She found out last night for sure, and nobody seemed to care, least of all her mother and uncle — ‘cause they made this damn problem happen in the first place. There was nothing Bee could do or say, so she kept surfing. And the waves were good this morning too, slip-sliding here, there, and everywhere. So Bee mumbled a curse, and set herself up for the next wave. Sometimes in the middle of a ride Bee did forget everything except that thrill of flying across the water. Nice! Didn’t last long, but it was nice.
As the sky began to change from black to navy blue, Bee saw some lights go on from the group of buildings that made up Leo’s Surf School, where Bee and her family lived. Ten minutes later it was bright enough for Bee to see her Uncle Leo walking down the beach, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. That was Bee’s signal to come to shore. She took the very next wave — just a ripple but her big board could handle it — and went in. She hauled her board and paddle up to where her uncle was standing. “How’s the water?” asked Leo. He handed Bee her favorite mug of coffee, a soup bowl-sized cup.
“Okay,” she said, trying not to sound grumpy. She did appreciate the coffee. “I got some nice rides.”
“You looked good out there.”
“Thanks,” said Bee.
“Even though your board is the size of an aircraft carrier.”
“You’re just jealous. You should try this standup paddling thing.”
“No thanks. I’ll stick with plain, old-fashioned surfing.”
“You old fuddy-duddy.”
“That’s me,” said Leo.
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