Oh, my poor neglected blog; this is what happens when a writer (or a blogger) tries to get a real life. The results are predictable: The writing sucks or vanishes and the real life doesn’t work either.

Being a writer really is a curse. For parents of young, prospective writers out there, I recommend the old medieval trick used to cure left-handedness and tie hands behind backs, but in this case both hands. It also has the advantage of doing away with that other scourge, self-pollution.

I have a lot on my plate today, but I’m determined to update this thing.

As readers may have noticed, Tracy and I have relisted Fainleog for sale, but this time on our own. I think we’ll have a better chance selling for less (which is what we would have got before, minus the brokerage fees.) Given the traffic I get on my blog, arguably the coverage will be greater anyway, not that most of you are in the market.

We are getting quite a bit of interest, and honestly, it has me in a bit of a funk. I find myself sniping at my wife more often, and suppressing an urge to wring her neck. Fortunately she is so lovely to me that I melt at the sight of her, so I’m reduced to passive-aggressive cheap shots.

It would be easy to blame her for my angst because after almost 5 yrs aboard she is the one wanting to move ashore, although she has in fact suggested some alternatives like renting a place for 4 months in the winter. But when I really examine my inner motivations and feelings, I know the problem is my own.

I’m getting old.

The thing is, I’ve reinvented myself so many times in this life, trying on different hats, different lifestyles, different ways of being. In part looking for something, in part simply because that’s part of living a full and meaningful life. But now, at the hale age of almost 51, I’m getting weary of it. After all I found something that really, truly works for me: living aboard a sailboat as a writer, making some money here and there, and cruising a few months of the year. What’s not to love?

I’ve been doing this since 2007 and these years have been the happiest in my adult life, fitting me so well on so many levels.

Of course it’s easy to blame Tracy for taking it away from me, but that blame hides a deeper truth. No matter what we have, no matter how good something is, we have to be willing to let go. Part of being truly alive is change and embracing change. No matter how good things are, we don’t have the option of grabbing onto it in an effort to keep it. When we find something wonderful we need to enjoy it, but if we decide to seize it everything fails. Life stops. Oh sure, the days carry on, but what you find is a kind is stasis, a suspended animation.

I would argue that’s the biggest mistake most of us make: finding our comfort place and staying there. We dismiss it as a “rut”, but it’s much deeper than that. Life means change and confronting the new that change brings with it. With each challenge we grow a little bit and deepen our wisdom. But as we get older, this becomes more difficult. We start to seek comfort over challenge, familiarity over the new. And we start digging our graves long before we enter them.

For myself, I have to admit I’m afraid of what change will bring and see only loss. I’m afraid of going back to that unsatisfying landlubber life I’ve known before. I’m afraid of being unhappy. And I’m afraid of the challenge of reinventing a new life yet one more time.

Living aboard or not living aboard is so much more than changing an address or housing style. These things are deeply symbolic and I don’t think just for me. Culturally, there is a great significance to whether you live in a car, a basement suite or a 6,000 square foot house on the ocean. I can’t begin to recall the number of times people have told us how impressed and admiring they were about our lifestyle.

And aside from that kind of meaning, the experience will be vastly different. I won’t deny the fact that living aboard can be challenging and living ashore is much more comfortable, hence Tracy’s desire to live ashore. But to me, that’s just the point: I want a lifestyle that by it’s very nature is a bit of a challenge, where every day there are some small things to overcome.

But in the end moving ashore is in fact an even greater challenge, because the paradox is that I’m most comfortable living aboard, and starting to get into my own rut. I’m like a lizard on a sun-baked rock, happily soaking in the rays; the problem is I’ve been sitting there for 5 years. If I truly want to embrace adventure in deed and not just according to the mythology of being a live-aboard writer, I have to push myself into places where I’m less comfortable, where I will be challenged by more than small spaces, inadequate heating and occasionally navigating shoally waters.

I have to confront that fact that I’m starting to be afraid of change. And that’s nobody’s problem but my own.

Here’s this month’s Pacific Yachting with my article From Calm to Calamity as the main article. The photo in the table of contents is also mine. It’s a good read; I highly recommend it.

Our sailboat home Fainleog is for sale (again). New, lower price. Find all the info here.

 Check out the free audiobook of my most recent novel  A Dark and Promised Land here