FootNotes

The Eldest

I took some sort of creative writing class in college. I can’t remember much about that class… or college, for that matter. Not because of all the partying I did (I mean, a lot of Friday nights were spent with three other guys practicing a cappella songs… because we were in a band… called F.O.B.… which stood for Five Ono Boys. Ono means “delicious” in Hawaiian. The fifth member of F.O.B. went to school on the mainland, and the rest of us stayed home to go to UH Manoa…) but because college was just a long time ago. I graduated in 2003.

What I do remember about that class is one big assignment: write a short story.

I can’t remember what I wrote. I do remember thinking, Oof. This is bad.
I think the professor agreed. I still got a high mark… probably for effort.
But I always wanted a do-over.

Recently, a good family friend visited and gifted me a graphic novel, a non-superhero one, which I had to clarify because superhero comics are the only kind I’ve ever read.
It was Blankets by Craig Thompson.
By page three, I was hooked.

It’s a story about a young man growing up in a difficult household who leans into faith and church… even gets encouraged by his pastor to become a pastor himself. But life has different ideas. He keeps bumping into that cognitive dissonance between what he was taught in church and what he’s lived in the real world.

And when I finished the book, the story just… lingered.
(Also—Craig captures silence in his art really well.)
That’s how I know a story’s great. It doesn’t leave.
It just… stays with you.

The first thing I thought of after finishing Blankets was that failed assignment from college, two decades ago (…😫…). I wanted a second shot. Except—turns out, I have a hard time writing in a voice that isn’t mine.
That was the struggle back then too.

Well, back then I didn’t even know if I liked writing. I just took the class because I thought it’d be an easy way to fulfill a requirement.
Now? I think I’ve found my voice.
I don’t think I’m a great writer, but I’ll hang my hat on being a consistently decent one.
And I know where I shine: when I’m vulnerable, honest, and translucent (not transparent—because you don’t need to see through me completely…).

And I don’t write like that for clicks or shares.
It’s just… me.
For better or worse, what you read here—and what you see on the videos—that’s who I am.

So writing in another voice? Harder than I ever realized.
I could never find…the rhythm.
It always felt amateurish… and that something was lacking (like heart and/or soul).

But Blankets inspired me to revisit this. Just for funsies.
But then there I was, watching that blinking cursor taunt me—on, off, on, off.

Why is starting always the hardest part?
And I didn’t help myself. I didn’t know what I was going to write.

But I like stories. Who doesn’t? A good story can be so powerful (but not powerful enough to sit on the Iron Throne and rule Westeros. I mean, the criteria to rule the kingdoms was having the best story???? What kind of BS was that entire season?? Totally undermined what a great show it was…)

Then I started thinking, why not try remixing a story instead of creating a whole new world.

Then an idea floated in.
I grabbed it.
Ran with it.

And now, I’m sharing it with you here in FootNotes.
No one’s read this yet. Not even my wife.
It still feels amateurish. And it still feels like it’s lack heart.
But, I had fun. And I killed about half an hour of down time to do this. Time well spent, I’d say.

So here’s the introduction of a story that’s temporarily called The Eldest.