Last summer, I came in contact with journals written by the wife my father divorced shortly before embarking on his journey. Scattered through the boxes were copies of important papers regarding the boat and the official police report of finding it unmanned, aground. There were many letters between assorted attorneys and paperwork about the salvage of the boat. A preliminary report of death from the State Department was at the bottom of the box.
As I read through the paperwork, I realized, here’s a story. If I were to write it, I knew I would have to write it as fiction because there is so much I don’t know, no one knows. I would have to invent a lot of the story. The seed was planted.
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