I’ve read John Gierach’s “Dances with Trout” at least twice straight through. Since it’s a collection of essays and doesn’t run as a linear story, I’ve opened it, found the beginning of a chapter and started reading. I’ve read enough chunks that if I piece them together, I’ve probably read the book twice more.
I’m always motivated to write after I read about fishing. The problem this last time is that I sat down to write my own fishing story and realized I hadn’t fished in close to a month. Part of fishing is paying attention so that I can get enough details to write down. Just taking my fly rod to a creek and swinging some bright flies in front of ripe humpies isn’t exactly a fishing trip, nor is it exactly riveting column material.
It would be better than nothing, but like I said, I wasn’t paying enough attention. Sometimes I fish out of sheer enjoyment rather than with an ulterior motive such as getting a column out of it. Both have their place, but the former is most important.
I wondered what I had been doing with my life that I had gone so long without putting together the rod that I usually carry in my truck.
Routine can be a dangerous thing, especially when it doesn’t involve fishing.
I wanted to describe gray clouds, light rain, swollen currents, angry mouths and acrobatic fish, but I had nothing.
I don’t know if it’s a product of laziness or what but I didn’t have a recent story to write down. I felt convicted. What kind of a dude writes a book that about fishing and life and yet can’t sit down on any given occasion and just write a fishing story?
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