It’s been a while since I’ve been here. May 31, 2025, to be exact. It’s been over a year, and I’ve missed A Patchwork. I took some time off from writing on this platform to write and publish my first book of fiction, A College Tale. It’s self-published, but at the same time a piece of work that I’m proud of and that I’m proud of myself for completing. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was 8 years old, and I’ve learned a lot about myself and myself as a writer through my work with A Patchwork and in completing my first book. Right now, I’m full of angst still, however. The book was published on September 15th, and as an independent publisher, it takes a while to know how the work is being perceived or received. I’m less concerned about whether people think it’s good; I’m much more concerned that people won’t get it. My intention in writing the book wasn’t to prove that I could write or that I’m a good writer; it was an artistic endeavor intended to provoke thought, feeling, or emotion. My humble attempt to accomplish a lofty dream of creating and introducing a piece of art to the world that might contribute to some sort of betterment. Something that might speak to someone and be meaningful and impactful in a way that might be helpful or positive.
This book means a lot to me personally as well. Not only is it a dream that I’ve pursued since childhood, but it’s a tribute to all those who’ve guided, loved, and mentored me through life. I’ve chosen to base the characters in my novels off the real-life people who’ve made me who I am. I couldn’t think of a better way to honor these people who’ve been my world and made my life what it is today.
Even this first novel coming about was directly inspired by one of these VIPs for me. I’d been making attempts at writing a novel since 2020, and earlier this year, I actually started to gain some traction on one that I thought I might finish. I still haven’t finished that book yet, though. In March of this year, I had what ended up being my last visit with my high school basketball coach and lifelong mentor. He was terminally ill, and I wanted to have as many interactions as I could with him while I could. During my visit with him, his daughter was there and she asked me if I was still writing. I responded that I was and that I was not only writing here on A Patchwork, but that I was also writing my first book that I intended to self-publish. My mentor’s response was that “I’d write one with you, but I’m dying or we could’ve written one together.” Yes, blunt, but very consistent with his personality. My response was, “Well, I’ll have to write one for you to read.”
After saying that, I left that visit feeling like I really had to write that book now. My mentor was forever the teacher, though. The visit wasn’t long because I got there near dinner time in the facility where he was staying, and my mentor was not one to be late for dinner. He told me that he’d have to cut the visit short because of that but still had the presence of mind after we were already out of the door and on our way to the grub, to have his daughter turn him around so that he could go back and give me some books to read. Now I not only needed to write that book I mentioned but also read these three books he’d gifted me.
Fortunately, I had a rare opportunity to read soon after he gifted me those books because I was getting some work done on the HVAC unit in my house and couldn’t be in my office to work. So, I started reading a book called Disgrace, by an author named J.M. Coetzee. It’s a great book, that I still haven’t finished, because while reading it I heard the voice that A College Tale would be written in, and if I’m fortunate enough, maybe even future novels. Hearing that voice sparked the flame that would lead to me scrapping the book I was writing and start the process of writing another book that I’d hopefully be able to get in front of my mentor to fulfill that promise I’d made. A College Tale was written over a cumulative 7-day period for that reason. I knew I wouldn’t be able to send him a perfect manuscript, but I wanted to at least do some proofing before I gave him what I’d written. I knew he’d be an honest critic, and he was one of the last people I’d want to think anything I’d written was terrible. Unfortunately, I finished that proofing the night before his passing. I woke up the next morning to his daughter’s text message, letting me know that the time was coming. I was devastated. Now I’d not only have to deal with a devastating loss, but I’d been wanting to do something to demonstrate that I appreciated this man’s investment in me since I was 16 years old, and I’d just missed my opportunity. I’d experienced significant loss before and devastation as a result, but this was one that resonated differently. It almost nullified my desire to publish writing. One of my biggest inspirations and supporters would no longer be present to critique what I’d done, to be proud, or to praise.
It took as much resilience as I’ve ever needed to muster in my life to pick back up the proverbial pen, and myself, as a person and as a writer, and keep pursuing the goal of publishing. That’s what he would’ve encouraged, and his daughter is still here, and so are my parents and kids and family and friends and other mentors, and yes, I still want to make them proud.
At the same time, as alluded to before, publishing this book has been personally nerve-racking, so I still hope they are ultimately proud. For a first-time independent author, it was an artistic leap that was fairly scary. I didn’t want to tell the story from the perspective of an all-knowing narrator from outside the story with perfect diction; etc. I’ve read those books and wondered, who’s this person who’s telling the story, and how do they know everything? So, I made the narrator the main character of the story. An imperfect person with the same flaws and faults that we all possess, including ticks and imperfections as a speaker/storyteller, telling an imperfect story. A seemingly very secure person outwardly, who in reality is as insecure and apprehensive as us all. The person among us who’d claim not to be that person would be a person I might genuinely envy or, conversely, would be genuinely concerned about. I’ve experienced a good bit of anxiety around leaving the imperfections, however. I felt left with the choices to either allow concerns over the imperfections being viewed as an indictment on my writing ability to change the art, or I could stick with the artistic vision and trust that at least some people would get it. On some level, I’ve always known that I wanted a bit of a “punk” element to the writing I published if I were fortunate enough to be able to make that determination for myself, so I chose the latter of the two approaches. As previously stated, that choice has caused me some anxiety, but I feel confident that it’s a decision I ultimately won’t regret. I hope I always feel that way about that choice.
2026 has been a year of great milestones and accomplishments for me, but it’s also been one of the most difficult years of my life. I’ve experienced too much loss and too many trials. So have too many of my friends and family. If nothing else, I hope something I do in this realm of my life inspires someone to push themselves in the same way that I’ve been inspired to push myself. Keep going. Keep pursuing that goal. Keep pursuing that dream. Let nothing stand in the way, especially fear and apprehension, and time and people are really the only thing you can’t get back. Given that, what could be more valuable than now?
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