Adventures

The first adventure book I read as a little kid was Tom Swift And His Electric Flying Machine, about which I remember very little, except that it was exciting, part of a series written in the 1930s, collected on a small town library shelf. Later on, I discovered Robert Louis Stevenson, read and reread Kidnapped, Treasure Island, and his lesser works. It was a disappointment to discover that Ian Fleming was a klutzy author, compared to the excitement of 007 movies. I read some vile thriller bestsellers, steered clear of the entire category. Then the glory of Raymond Chandler, goofy plots and splendid first person resolve in pursuit of a solution that made sense. His mature work had humor, romance, and tired professional investigation. I liked the screen version of The Maltese Falcon more than Hammett's cynical fiction.

 

It's important to consider that Ayn Rand was a novelist who penned exciting stories, especially that of an independent, un-socialized architectural innovator in The Fountainhead. Atlas Shrugged threw me in the path of numerous real life adventures that took several decades to digest. Her ideas became the basis of intellectual work that I felt I had to contribute as a cure to the filthy sewage of constitutional law. In my spare time I made TV product and pitched screenplays. When my career as a showman died in a Disney cubicle, I decided to write a first novel. Flash forward to today. I just completed an adventure novel that I regard as a mature masterpiece. I don't care what others think about it. I'm accustomed to obscurity, ridicule, and hardship. Escape! was worth every hour, day, week, and month of intense dedication.

 

Bottom line, life is an adventure. We learn by exploration, gambling, wading through consequences that test men's souls. If you can retain and cherish a sense of ambition no matter what, good things happen.

 

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