EPISODE 1, 3-10-18:
I was inspired to write a book.
Shopping in London, and Fish and Chips for lunch.
The summer of 2015
On a very long airplane flight from Honolulu to London, I was inspired to write a book. Hey, I was a pretty good storyteller, and I had a million stories. It can’t be that hard to do, and I was sure it couldn’t take more than a few weeks of late nights and weekends. I’m on it. I finished my lunch and started typing on my Apple laptop. I started a story about an adventure at sea. After a dozen or so pages, I set it aside. It wasn’t what I wanted for my first effort. I then started a tell-all story about the big time construction business. That was too heavy, and I’m not a whistleblower, I discarded that concept, and ordered a chocolate sundae high above the Pacific Ocean for dessert and thought about it. You could do that in first class.
This wasn’t going well. I needed to focus on something I was passionate about, something that would hold my interest start to finish as I wrote. Thirty minutes later, I got it. I would write a story about a slice of my life. I mean what could be more interesting to me, than me? I didn’t know where to start the story? I could start as a child, a young man, a dynamic world-class builder or as an old duffer sitting on the beach in Waikiki, sipping a Mai Tai and reliving my triumphs. My story must, at a minimum, portray me, as the protagonist, battling insurmountable odds and devilish villains to achieve my goal. There must be an adventure, danger, love, humor, challenges and ingenious solutions. Maybe food and drink could be a minor, but common element to the story.
I decided my story would chronicle a thirteen-year-old kid’s ill-conceived plan to escape his abusive father by entering a Catholic Seminary, a boarding school for future priests. I had dozens of true stories and vignettes that met my criteria for a good book. This was going to be fun and a piece of cake. It might also touch on the spiritual, but I wasn’t sure yet. By the time I deplaned at the Heathrow Airport, I had a fifty-page draft of my book, and I was pleased with myself.