I can pinpoint the exact moment when I first thought I could write a novel. It was around 1:30 in the afternoon of April 1, 1978. I was at Jingu Stadium that day, alone in the outfield drinking beer and watching the game.
This sounded well worth a shot, so I tried it myself. A couple summers ago I bought a bleacher ticket to watch a Mariners game. It was a reasonably sunny Seattle day, and I had a section of Safeco Field all to myself. I drank a Manny’s Pale Ale, but the only epiphany I had was that when clouds cover the sun, it can get a bit chilly.
Last May Day, though, serendipity visited me over a pint at a local pub where, in a copy of the Boston Globe, I found Adolphous Bullock’s obituary. This, I was certain, was a life worth sharing with my students. Then it occurred to me that there must be countless other lives worthy of introduction as well. And that’s how my obituary project got started.