On January 1, 1995, I went to my office in Harbor Springs, Michigan, where I was working at the time, and booted up my Apple IIc to start writing a novel about a character who had popped into my head when I was on vacation the month before on the island of Montserrat. The name of the character was Bobby Cramer, and the plot was simple: tell his story. Yesterday, January 7, 2020, at 3:00 p.m., I finished it, all 886 pages.
I have no plans to pursue publication; I never meant to. The satisfaction has come from telling his tale and watching him grow and make his way through life; through good times and bad, celebration and loss, growth and turmoil, and show that having hope as his greatest weakness is not a bad thing at all. That’s why I write.