I sit Sunday morning in my mustard writing chair observing the mahogany stained bookshelf on my right. On it sits a compilation of a works ranging from medical reference titles to The Godfather and The Mysterious Case of Rudolph Diesel, a non-fiction work about the man behind the eponymous engine. Amongst the titles is a single 219 page work titled Forward, A Madison Story. That work is my own. As of this week I’m officially a published author.
The Story of Forward, A Madison Story
I decided to write a novel as a challenge, a means to enhance my life’s resume before entering my 30’s. As I’ve articulated previously, writing has been a secret passion of mine since high school. Like many secret passions, it was rarely explored beyond admiring from afar. Without reciting the entire saga, it was a marketing effort from a previous venture which ultimately turned this admiration into the 219 pages on my shelf adjacent to Puzo. It fills that position nicely, and I hope you find this brief story of how it got there of use.
Reflection #1
January 2, 2024, was the first day of the journey. I wrote less than a page. A slow start, but one nonetheless. As I learned, the day you set out to write a novel is not the day you should begin writing. It’d be hypocritical to say this initial misstep ruined it, but it did bestow upon me a bounty of unnecessary editing to ensure how I began the story matched how it developed. It took the entire year to fully reconcile this issue, which connects to my aforementioned reflection. If one does not write on day one, what should one do? In a word, map.
Mortals can’t pull stories from their heads onto paper: not without extensive iteration and non-writing activities such as mapping. For that reason, I began the journey of my second novel yesterday by sifting through the multitude of Forward edits and notes to ensure continuity, then placing them on a timeline. At the time of writing this piece I have yet to review the results of that exercise. I guarantee, however, like that first page it won’t be a masterpiece, but will be a sound first step preempting the coming work.
Reflection #2
The story took shape over the following months. I read two books in the spring: A Moveable Feast and Blood Meridian. Both are fantastic works which couldn’t be more different stylistically. It assured me there wasn’t a uniform way to craft a meaningful work and helped refine my own style. I’d argue you don’t need to obsessively read gametes of books before choosing to write your own. That is paralysis by analysis. You do, however, need to have strong preferences. In short, reflect on memorable books before the first word hits the page, then read one or two which intrigue you along the way to refine your style.
Forward’s first draft was finished on August 7, 2024. Did I feel accomplished? Yes. Did I feel the most challenging part was over? Yes. Was I right? No. Enter the second reflection; writing is easy, crafting a story is arduous. Reading through the first draft was like experiencing The Divine Comedy on shuffle. I’d read one paragraph and be incredibly proud, then the next sentence would make me question if I knew how to use a comma. This edit and re-read cycle would repeat another ten times (or eleven, or twelve, I lost count) until I was proud to put the result into the world.
The Final Reflection
On the eve of December 15, 2024, as I pondered my departure into the third decade, I submitted my manuscript for publishing. Punch-drunk from endless searching for misappropriated colons and italicized titles, I then realized the publishing process wasn’t instantaneous, and it’d be another two weeks before the physical book would be available for purchase. Damn, I missed my birthday milestone, but I still would complete the journey in 2024. This past Monday, it came together. This butchered Word document is now a cream, blue, and gold book you can buy. How ‘bout them apples?
Of all these reflections, there is one sentence on page 177 which perfectly encapsulates all lessons from this past year:
“Don’t fear effort. Fear the outcome of not having to impart any.”
Nothing of worth has been achieved in absence of great effort. It’s naïve to believe anything you consider a “dream” will require less than a new evolution of yourself. I look down from my mustard writing chair one final time to conclude this piece knowing many works like it will come to overwhelm the shelf. I hope they will overwhelm your own someday.
Be More
Become Polymathic