When you only get to an extended stay at the beach (or a beach) once a year, it’s hard to keep perspective on real life, like the news or bills or problems at work. Of course, that’s part of the point–the ebb and flow of the tides, the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun give you a new set of issues. Like, how to afford a beach house…
Luckily, I’ve been able to avoid that siren’s song (Scylla–buying a beach house; Charybdis–buying a boat).
But, being at the beach has brought various story ideas to mind. And, too many of them involve seagulls. As writers go to the beach (or live at the beach), and there the birds are…waiting to inspire a variety of stories…
My three immediate “literary” seagulls are Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the Seagull by Chekhov (insert gunshot here), and “mine mine mine” from Finding Nemo. Three very different versions, and uses, of the bird.
I’ve seen two different types of seagulls while at the beach. One, the majestic hunter, scanning the water and then swooping down to attack some poor unsuspecting fish–maybe successful, maybe not–but with every plunge, I hear an imaginary “Death from above!” The second, the foul, dirty, annoying scavenger scanning restaurants for the weak (eg, small children) and then swarming to scare something out of the now-crying child…Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds in action…
As I was floating in the water yesterday, the story that came to mind–just the inkling of an idea–was of a blind seagull (or at least nearsighted one), who can’t see the small fish, so just has to go after the big fish.
But, this being the beach, those thoughts float away since it’s now time for the pre-lunch nap…