Any time an undertaking of this magnitude is undertaken, there are bound to be some hiccups along the way. I foresee three specific botherations:
- I’m only 29 years old and as everybody knows 29 years is not nearly enough time to accrue the material necessary for a comprehensive memoir. Especially my 29 years.
- In my 29 years I haven’t done or said anything of any high cotton that warrants an autobiography, whatsoever.
- I’m not that good of a writer.
So why, then? Why indeed.
I intend to relate all the major events in my life, as I see them. From my birth to a self-made millionaire miner/rancher, to my days at Harvard, to early days of my powerful chain of newspapers, to accusations of inciting public support for the Spanish-American War using half-truths and sensationalism, to the building of my opulent mansion, San Simeon, to my quest to thwart Orson Welles’ knavish moving picture show Citizen Kane, which dragged my good name through the muck! That elephantine gormandizer! Wait, that was the life of William Randolph Hearst. I thought that sounded too compelling.
In actuality what I hope to accomplish is a humble tome of my life experience thus far that if nothing else will give me something mildly interesting to do in my free time and hopefully in years to come will make my grandchildren shake their heads and chuckle, “That silly old man. I sure wish he wasn’t dead.” That and to hone my narrative writing skills.
When I am able to craft something fit for public consumption, as if that were even possible, I’ll post a teaser or two on this blog as I know you will all be on pins and needles waiting for it’s publishing. So hopefully by about this time next year (I’ve never been known to do anything very quickly. Except running. I’ve always been a pretty fast runner. In sprints, not distance.) you’ll be able to find the 15 page volume, [Title TBA] on bookshelves all over……..my living room.