It's been a week. Let's start backward. I was thinking this morning about the Resurrection, in particular about that first breath. The first breath. Whether you believe it happened or not, the world has not been the same since. I'm a little off my axis these days, overwhelmed with this and that, trying to keep all the balls in the air.
I'm sitting in my office on a Sunday afternoon. Rode the Peloton, went to church, Ricardo's in San Juan for crunchy tacos and refried beans, a little time re-reading The Winds of War, and now here I sit.
Unlike my friend Dan, I am perpetually underdressed. I try. Sort of. But it seems I'm always a jacket and pair of dress shoes short. As my wife told me last night after we attended a party here in New York, I tend to look like I just left track practice. Dan, on the other hand, is always pressed and shined, no matter the occasion.
A long while ago, I wrote The Explorers. I sold the idea as a new take on the Burton-Speke expedition to find the source of the Nile. But the Killing series took off after the contract was signed. What was supposed to be one book is now up to thirteen. So in the interests of keeping things fresh (and fulfiliing my contract), I spun the Burton-Speke drama into something entirely different. . . .
