Writing What You Know

They say you should write about what you know. I’ve done that with a few books now: Truncated: Apocalyptic and Loving It! and Westgate.

The second two books in the Truncated series, Truncated II: A Cold Day In Heaven and Truncated III: Born Against, didn’t take place in Orange County but the protagonist started his journey there. I suppose his outlook and reactions to what is taking place throughout the series are born out of me growing up in California. It took me a while to realize that our birthplace, our home, is what establishes that outlook whether we are aware of it or not. How we relate—how we feel about the world and communicate those feelings—comes from that outlook, comes from our surrounding environment. 

Writing about Orange County has made me love it here all the more, finding a certain awareness of just how lucky we are to live in this place.

I say “we” if you as the reader do in fact live in OC.  And if you don’t live in this bashfully beautiful place, well, you should visit, or you should read about it.  If you visit, odds are you won’t love it as much as I do...you need time, context, and experience to build that sort of fond appreciation for a place. Just a place. However, OC people (and all people) are capable of taking those same building blocks and turning what could be fond sentiment into nothing more than unintended resentment. People who live in Orange County, and resent it confuse me...it’s sunny, and warm, and beautiful, and ocean, and girls enjoying the sun, and guys enjoying the girls enjoying the sun. But “they” are here too. The insatiated takers. And you’ll run into them in my books... the people who who breath in oxygen and out bad vibes. If you read about Orange County though, I think it’ll make you want to visit.

I think everyone should write, even if they don’t publish their work, because what comes out of that writing are things you never knew you noticed, never knew you thought about, and never knew you valued.

You can be touched by a place, and not ever realize how much it’s affected you. Ever. Writing has shown me how much I’ve been effected by this place I call home.

Reading What You Know

There haven’t been a lot of books written about Orange County that I know of.

I’ve read a few Dean Koontz books that took place in Orange County, or at least referenced it. It was always fun being able to see the streets someone was driving down, without having to imagine them in your mind as some place you’d never witnessed before with your own eyes. Makes me wonder what the people who have read my books think of this place.

Where you live can just be a place. A noun. Somewhere you never notice as you go about your day, to your job, to your school, the grocery store, often doing mundane things, your attention on the road, or to some music beat to tune out the banality of a continuous looping life that plays on repeat, even though we never knowingly pressed the button to do so.

Or the place you live can be a vibrant and colorful story, full of interesting characters and backdrops.

My brother and I generally surf in the same place. It’s full of characters. We named one guy Loudy because you can hear him talking even if he’s a mile down the lineup. We named one guy Our Guy because we never got his name when we spoke with him due to his thick accent. We tried. He wears tan face covering sunblock, is kind of shy, but a great surfer. Another is Spicoli, who we named after Sean Penn’s character from the movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High because he always pulls up in his van and the smoke of weed exits the car before and after him. We love all these guys, and they form the patchwork quilt of our environment, as we must in some way form theirs.

PSHHT.. Orange County?

It would be easy for others to judge Orange County. Especially in Corona Del Mar near the beach, where I live.

And that’s fair, and I understand their judgments to an extent—I look out over the edge of the continent every single day. Obscenely costly homes weave through harbors, mooring boats out front that are worth more than even the most expensive homes elsewhere. The roads look like a parade of exotic cars and SUV’s to the point that you don’t even notice a Ferrari or Lamborghini anymore. Just the noise.

For the most part, these things become part of the backdrop. The beaches are littered with beautiful, fit people and surfers. The crime in most parts of the county are low, and the streets are safe. It’s quite simply paradise, one most people will never get to enjoy.  

But that’s not to say that people here don’t have their problems. Like, realistic problems that real people face...and even, the one percenters.

I’ve known people who have killed themselves when their businesses went belly up. The level of competition to do more, be more, outshine and outlast your fellow Orangecountians is so extreme that people can become sick, both mentally and physically. They’ll buy things they can’t afford in order to fit in, to make themselves appear something they’re not, while they live paycheck to paycheck and dig insurmountable holes that will never be filled. Maybe their poor souls are just like that, I wonder sometimes.

Sure these are first world problems in a top one percent of the one percent type of place, but to me, misery is misery. People die. They get cancer. Children overdose. Even in the richest families in town. But I can never stop counting my blessings living here. I’ve been lucky enough to travel to surf spots with my brother at distant locations around the globe: El Salvador, Panama, Mexico, Hawaii, Costa Rica, the Maldives. Those places are paradise in their own way, even if there is poverty surrounding some of those amazing surf spots. I spent some time in Japan, Italy for four months, Denmark, Hong Kong.

Still, I wouldn’t trade anywhere for Orange County.

It’s the energy here. Not too fast, not too slow.

 There’s So Much to Love

The older Rich Ladies of Corona Del Mar policing the place like over watching sentinels. The Huntington Beach locals with old custom cars and surf shirts. The crazed crowded beaches during summer and the empty beaches in winter. The Pacific Ocean bringing us waves and dolphins and sea lions speckled with boats and surfers. The Hispanics and Vietnamese adding the flavor and culture and amazing food. Opulent shopping centers owned by Persians with places I’ll never even walk into because I can’t afford to. Down the road, 3rd generation Italian American mom and pop pizza parlors and breakfast places that have been around since I was born. Towns and cities tucked into each other so closely, and yet so different, a mere street making one place one way and the other place completely different. HB who birthed many original MMA fighters. Surf City, like a tough place with manners. Newport Beach with its famous waves and ostentatious beauty. Laguna Beach with its art and culture. Irvine with its schools and Asian influence. Westminster and Garden Grove with its Southeast Asians, festivals, and food. Santa Ana with rich Hispanic history. And Costa Mesa which seems to fit all of those cities into one great place.

Granted, I can’t touch upon every aspect of Orange County culture, or its cities, or its peoples, and those things I mentioned may come off as sweeping generalizations, but I feel so lucky to be surrounded by all of them, living with them here, that maybe I’m the richest man alive.

Who knows, maybe if you’re reading this, you’ll write about this place too, as I have. There’s still so much to write about.