If your 18-year-old self could see your life today... What do you think they would say? I think mine would be amazed that I'm finally writing the stories I once thought I'd keep to myself.

@Jack Slater A warm welcome to Memoir Skool, Jack! We're so glad you're here. It's exciting to have someone with your writing background join our community. Congratulations on taking the leap to write your own Jason Trapp thriller series—that's an incredible accomplishment! 🌍✍️ You mentioned you've been fortunate enough to travel the world. I have a feeling those experiences have given you plenty of stories and inspiration along the way. Here in Memoir Skool, we celebrate the power of storytelling, whether it's fiction, memoir, or the moments that shape our lives. I'd love to hear: 📖 What inspired you to create the Jason Trapp series? 🌎 What's one place you've traveled that left a lasting impression on you? Welcome aboard! I look forward to getting to know you and following your writing journey. 📚✨

The First Time I Left Love for Tokyo I was fifteen and deeply in love the first time I left for Japan. He drove me to the airport in Los Angeles, my suitcases packed for a three-month contract that felt like forever. I remember staring out the window so I wouldn’t have to look at him. I cried the entire way there. I cried walking through the terminal. I cried on the plane. I cried somewhere over the Pacific, wondering what I had just done. I thought I was brave. I didn’t know I was terrified. When I landed in Tokyo, the world felt louder, brighter, faster than anything I had ever known. The signs were unreadable. The air smelled different. Even the silence between people felt foreign. I didn’t realize how overwhelmed I was until two weeks later when I demanded to be sent back to Los Angeles. I told my agency I couldn’t handle it. I was fifteen, thousands of miles from home, and drowning in culture shock I didn’t have language for. And yet — my very first job? I helped open Tokyo Disneyland. I shot the cover and fourteen pages of Olive magazine. On my first night in my model apartment, there were clothes laid out on my bed. Not wardrobe for a shoot — wardrobe for me. Outfits I was expected to wear to castings. Plaid patterns. Oversized blazers. Men’s shoes. Hats. Structured pieces that swallowed my California softness whole. I loved it. It felt like stepping into another identity — one that was sharper, stranger, braver. Back home I had a convertible Alfa Romeo. In Tokyo, they gave me a bicycle. They chauffeured me to auditions, but the bike was for riding around the neighborhood, weaving through narrow streets that smelled like soy sauce and rain. I pedaled through a life that didn’t resemble mine at all. I had left love at the airport. And somehow, in the middle of my tears and terror, I was opening Disneyland in Tokyo. I didn’t understand what overwhelmed me at the time. I only knew my chest felt tight and everything felt unfamiliar. The language. The silence in elevators. The way people didn’t hug. The way I stood out without trying.

CHAPTER 6 — Nine Auditions a Day Tokyo modeling was a machine — and I became one of its gears. People think modeling in Japan is glamorous, but they don’t understand the schedule, the grind, the exhaustion, the running, the subway transfers, the bicycles, the van rides, the heat, the humidity, the snow, the endless outfits stuffed in a bag, the composite cards, the smiles, the “arigato gozaimasu,” the bowing, the waiting rooms, the hallways filled with girls from every country in the world. Nine auditions a day. Every day. And then — seven days of work. That was the rhythm of my life. One day of running around the city for castings… and then a full week of jobs because I booked almost everything I went out for. It wasn’t arrogance — it was reality. I was extremely popular there. The clients loved my look. My energy. My expressions. My reliability. My timing. My professionalism — even at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. I was the girl they kept calling back. Seven out of nine jobs? Sometimes eight. Sometimes all nine. Tokyo was a city that tried to break most girls — but it built me. I thrived in it. And the wildest part? The last three years I spent in Japan… I didn’t even have to do auditions anymore. I would land in Tokyo, walk into the agency, and within hours the phone was already ringing off the hook with bookings. No castings. No competition. No waiting rooms. No swimsuit-in-a-lobby moments. I would just roll into town, work nonstop, and roll right back out. That’s how strong my name was. That’s how wanted I was. That’s how much Japan loved Kuri-chan. But before I got to that level, before I became the girl who didn’t need castings anymore… there was one audition — one casting among the nine-a-day madness — that changed everything. The Okinawa job.

Please join me in giving a warm welcome to @Bree Wood ! 💛 Bree is passionate about helping ADHD solopreneurs bridge the gap between learning and taking action. I love her philosophy of not just collecting knowledge but actually building, implementing, and moving forward. Bree, we're so happy you've joined Memoir Skool! Every entrepreneur has a unique story, and I hope you'll find inspiration, meaningful connections, and a community that celebrates every chapter of your journey. Welcome! We can't wait to get to know you and hear your story. Everyone, please say hello and give Bree a warm Memoir Skool welcome! 📖✨💛