NOT THE WAY I expected it to come.
The first time in my life I heard a voice, with no one there to speak it. I was walking alone one evening, a starving young writer desperate to know how I was going to pay the rent. Then someone behind me and to my right, said, “Jonathan Livingston Seagull.” It was decades before I realized that was a simple, honest answer to my question.
I turned, pretty well startled, and there was no one there. I went home, frightened, and locked the door behind me, wondering who was the voice and what was a Jonathan Livingston Seagull. Hours of puzzlement later, about the time I had to admit I hadn’t a clue what was a Jonathan Livingston Seagull, my office wall disappeared, and in its place, a Cinerama screen. On the screen I saw the ocean below, and the sky and one solitary that’s what must be a Jonathan Seagull.
The story unfolded and I wrote what I saw, as fast as I could write, scene by scene.