She can see them in the distance. They look perfect, but seem small from so far away. She knows, just like always, they'll be bigger once she gets there, and so begins her journey toward the prize. Looking from side to side—no one else is around. She'll have each and every one to herself. Every long, peeling, perfect one. Her excitement builds, traveling faster now; she has never scored like this before.
Closer and closer…almost there…mouth watering at the sight of her very own set…all hers…none to share…not this time.
This is her chance.
With one final movement, she arrives.
Sure enough, just as she thought, they were bigger than they looked, but not too big. They peeled down smoother than she could have foreseen. Each one seemingly longer than the last. The set seemed endless, picking out the ones she thought were the best. Never had she experienced this alone, and she loved it.
She notices a low rumbling roar. Looking down from her tree, she observes the waves reeling off the reef. She remains unaffected and turns back to her enormous set of yellow bananas. Picking the longest and ripest ones with her hairy hands, enjoying solitude with her perfect set of bananas.
She, and the roaring wave beneath her, continued peeling.
It's called an "Astral Perspective"—seeing the world from another viewpoint, a different person, animal or thing. In this case, it's a monkey. Astral Perspective is one of the techniques we've learned on this trip. It's effective at the beginning of a story because it draws the reader in with curiosity. You may think I'm writing about a girl surfer at first, but you realize when "she looks down from her tree," that she isn't.
I've finally become confident in my writing. I'm beginning to enjoy it, sometimes even write through lunch. Surf journalism is not just writing essays, as this trip has shown me. It's much more worthwhile, especially when you get to write about your passion. For me, right now, it's these peeling waves.