When I dipped my bicycle tires into the Atlantic Ocean in Yorktown, Virginia, in early November 2000, my yelp for joy was followed by a lengthy sigh.
At last, I had finished my absolutely-must-do, solo, cross-country trek of 4,250 miles. Completion liberated me to focus solely on conservation and energy articles for newspapers, magazines and online publications. Or, so I thought.
Then somebody, a supposed friend, suggested I write a book about my adventure. After all, I had a natural start with the journal entries I had posted online. But a book seemed a reach to me.
Still, the friend offered to connect me to an acquaintance, a New York City literary agent. I guess vanity trumped common sense because I pounded out a few chapters and sent them. The agent offered words of encouragement, but said I would have to dig much deeper to accomplish what it seemed I wanted to do. She suggested I keep in touch.
