Here's another "watermelon seed" story I wrote to show my class how you should focus on just one small part of a vacation. So many times they tend to write down every single thing that they did if they went to Disneyland or somewhere. It ends up sounding like a list instead of a story. When I read this one to them, I ask if anyone heard anything about the S'mores we made at the campfire that night? Or did I tell about burying our grandchildren in the sand up to their chins? Do I even tell them that this was part of our four day camping trip and there were about 12 people with us? No...because those things could all be part of other stories. The whole camping trip is too big to explain everything that happened, in just one little story. Good writers just tell a piece at a time. It should be a little movie in the reader's head.
It was like being on a cloud. I was
floating on the green, cool ocean along the edge of Carpenteria State Beach.
It’s one of my favorite places in the world. The oak covered mountains loomed
into the sky off in the east. The dim outline of Santa Cruz Island was visible
through the misty clouds hovering off-shore. I was suspended in between,
drifting and bobbing like a piece of human seaweed.
I could hear the surf splashing as it landed on the sand. I could hear laughter and yelling from the people using body boards or just frolicking in the wave break. But all the noise was far away as my body dipped and rose with the moving ocean.
As I gazed around, a dark form appeared from above, and I was astounded to see a pelican dive, bill-first, straight into the water not ten feet from me. He was such a perfect arrow shape that his body hardly made a splash. He disappeared entirely into the water and then, almost immediately, bobbed back up—gulping down a fish. I could see it through the skin on his throat as he swallowed.
He floated there serenely, looking at me, blinking, not even caring if I shared his watery feed ground. I was simply one more creature in the vast Pacific Ocean.
I could hear the surf splashing as it landed on the sand. I could hear laughter and yelling from the people using body boards or just frolicking in the wave break. But all the noise was far away as my body dipped and rose with the moving ocean.
As I gazed around, a dark form appeared from above, and I was astounded to see a pelican dive, bill-first, straight into the water not ten feet from me. He was such a perfect arrow shape that his body hardly made a splash. He disappeared entirely into the water and then, almost immediately, bobbed back up—gulping down a fish. I could see it through the skin on his throat as he swallowed.
He floated there serenely, looking at me, blinking, not even caring if I shared his watery feed ground. I was simply one more creature in the vast Pacific Ocean.
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