Fabled Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami wrote his first novel at thirty years old while running a failing jazz bar in western Tokyo.
One afternoon, Murakami was out for a weekend stroll when, on a whim, he decided to catch a baseball game.
He was sipping an ice-cold beer in the stands and licking his wounds after a tough week of slinging drinks, when he heard the satisfying crack of a baseball bat ring out across the field. For whatever reason, it rattled his subconscious.
Suddenly, a thought entered Murakami’s mind...