Someone writes me: "It must be impossible to sit in Brooklyn in 2014 and write about Hawaii in 1898."
Not at all. I confess, I go to old Hawaii every time I sit and write. I put on Hawaiian music that carries me away to another place and time, and I am in love with my twenty-three year old detective, James Lopaka. Like a schoolgirl with a crush, I can't wait to be with him again. I listen, and New York City fades away, and I am once again back in a place that I love to be. Tonight it's been Ku'u Lei Awapuhi, by Emily Taylor. I remember Olomana sang it, I think in the 70's, so I go on You Tube and find Jerry Santos singing it. I hit "repeat," and I write.