“I don’t know how to tell you this… [your brother] passed away this morning.” I had to read the message several times before I processed it. Then my legs stopped holding me up.
Some writers fear the blank page, the pressure to find words; I’m just afraid of the consequences. It’s not the social stigma, it’s the threat of being sued for defamation. The threat of violence.
It could be worse. I have somewhere safe to stay, I have enough food. Objectively, I’m doing well — it could be worse.
“I hate this,” he said. “I know most of them are just fishing boats, but because I know at least a few of them are pirates, I have to treat them all as if they’re going to attack us. And I can’t stay away from all of them or we’ll never get home.”
Seafarers are pawns in a high-stakes game. For us, our lives and livelihoods are on the line; for you, because without us your supply chains will disappear.
It’s okay to stop fighting. If I can’t breathe, I choose to stop trying. When it's my choice, there’s no need to panic: I’m in control. That pause, that absence of panic, gives me a chance to deal with the problem. That applies to the rest of life as well.
In a worldwide pandemic, the consequences of our prejudice can be dire. If you've never questioned your own beliefs, this is the time.
There’s never a good time to hear that your brother has died. I’m on a ship, but he was in Australia. My crew can't go home because of COVID. Should I go?
In lockdown, I decided to write and self-publish a book. As a Linux-user, that was harder than it sounds. Here's what I learned.