Update: Amazon released a Print-On-Demand hardcover, so I’ve added that version of my book. It looks pretty good! The hardcover version of Forsaking Home is available now (315 pages).
Previous Update: The paperback version of Forsaking Home is available. It is right at 443 pages. – Cheers!
Original post:
Over the past few years I have been working on a novel in my tiny amount of spare time. Now I am glad to say that I have finally pushed enough of the words into a pile to feel like this novel (part one of the story) is complete.
The experience of writing this many words (roughly 113,000) has been one of hope wrapped in moments of complete frustration combined with a healthy drive to learn, express myself, and finish what I started. The process has been rewarding on its own in many ways, and I am proud to finally be able to publish it.
Forsaking Home (synopsis):
Edin is a young man who yearns to break free of Earth’s overbearing societal regulation. In the year 2110 he struggles to convince his pregnant wife to spend their life-savings on tickets to join Earth’s first off-planet colony. After she tells him off, he shoots himself in the foot with his impulsiveness and discovers that injustice runs deeper than he imagined.
An assassin, who spent much of her young life alone on the streets of Brazil, accepts a contract from an unknown and powerful entity. She fights her conscience while navigating a treacherous path toward the completion of her contract. Her decisions will forever alter the fate of Earth’s first colony and maybe even offer her a path to redemption.
When events fall into place, the colony’s launch party is tragically interrupted by the politically motivated assassination, and Edin must choose between pursuing his freedom or becoming resigned to what life on Earth has to offer.
Here is a little excerpt that I think sets the tone for the book.
“So, you’re saying that too much safety is bad for us?” It seemed counterintuitive.
“Pretty much. Not that I wish calamity on people, though. It’s all about balance. Reward demands risk. We sent men to the Moon and Mars by risking lives and money. If we had risked more, we might have done it quicker or gone further. If we had risked less, we might not have gone at all.” Grandpa looked up at the sky as if he expected to see the Fenwater Orbital Station (The FOS, as it was commonly called) streaking beyond the few small puff-clouds that dotted the blue.
Edin shrugged, “So I guess what you’re saying is that too much safety is bad, but too much risk is bad too. Like riding in a car; if we don’t go, we won’t get anywhere, but if we do, we might get into an accident.”
“Exactly,” said Grandpa. “But you’re not actually free if you can’t make that choice for yourself.”
Edin walked in silence across the dusty ground for a few seconds before hesitantly speaking up. “Then what would you say if I told you that I want to join the Proxima Project?”
Grandpa stopped walking and looked at Edin in a searching way. “Are you serious?”
Edin paused. “I really am, Grandpa, but I haven’t told Amanda yet.”
“This isn’t because of the way we talk of freedom is it?” Grandpa asked. “Have you thought it out, or is this just some knee-jerk reaction? I’m not saying that freedom isn’t valuable, but there is a lot of finesse between theory and actuality.”
“Look at it this way, Grandpa. I’ve always wanted to own a piece land like you do. I’ve wanted to shoot your guns, have a kid who will grow up to be a real man, and do what I want to do in general. Do I really have a chance at owning a place like this? Even playing with this potato cannon would get us a fine if we got caught.”
Grandpa shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“You know I’m right. We can’t have any fun or do anything interesting without breaking a law. Remember when we used to have fireworks when I was a kid? They banned every one of them for safety reasons, even the sparklers! Then those crusted bastards lumped all fireworks in with explosives, and toys are equated to weapons. Either the world is too wimpy or…” Edin trailed off. “I don’t see what else it could be.” He looked around at the woods that were his childhood playground. “And then I think about little Henry. It’ll be twice as bad when he grows up. Have you seen the schools? I want more for him than I have; more freedom, more opportunity, and more education.”
Grandpa looked up at the sky again for a moment. “Don’t you think there are less drastic ways to change your future? There is a lot of good to work with here on Earth.”
“Grandpa, there isn’t a place on Earth that isn’t owned and heavily regulated. If I join the project, I get to be a true pioneer, and I get as much of my own land as I want. I could raise my son how I want. I could work hard and take whatever risks I want in order to succeed.” Edin raised his hand. “However hard I work here I know my options are limited.” He made a fist as he lowered his arm. “It is less risky here, but I won’t be anything more than I am now, except older and maybe with a little more in the bank. Anyway, I thought you said risks are necessary?”
“And you haven’t mentioned it to Amanda?” Grandpa said ignoring the question. “This is a real, life changing choice, Edin. She needs to be an integral part of your decision.”
“Not yet. I was hoping you’d help me figure out how to ask her. Amanda’s lack of blood relatives should make it easier for her to choose. You know I’ve saved a lot of money for the house, and I want to use that for the price of membership. It would buy us complete room and board on one of the ships.” Edin glanced at his watch. “That reminds me, I need to get back to town for our date tonight, and I am going to ask her what she thinks about the idea.”
They walked silently into the yard while Grandpa processed this news. Finally, he spoke.
“Whatever you do, you have to have Amanda with you. A man doesn’t abandon his family, and he doesn’t drag them along against their will. Follow your heart, but make sure she is with you in the decision. That’s my advice.”
About writing: I started unskilled, with only desire and an imagination. This process has been like learning a language. Aside from talent, if any, skill does not already exist it takes patience and practice to learn. In my experience core ideas are easy, but fleshing out the details is takes a lot of time and effort. Extra time is not something I have in abundance, but I think that I have learned some efficiencies that I can use to reduce the time I need to write book #2.
Often life gets in the way, but I once saw Diana Gabaldon speak, and she said one thing that stuck with me. I don’t have an exact quote, but she made the statement that a writer needs to write every day, even if it’s just a few minutes. It’s true. I have walked away for months at a time and only come back when I was disgusted by my own lack of progress, but when I write every day it keeps my mind on topic and the words flowing. Thanks Diana.
Forsaking Home is not perfect, especially in my eyes, but I hope that readers find it enjoyable and that these themes come through. There is no reward without risk (which should be tempered by balance), redemption is possible, and the course of human progress has been and will be charted by a few, bold pioneers who risk everything to achieve more.
I would be thrilled if you would read Forsaking Home. It can be found on Amazon (ebook: Forsaking Home on Amazon).
In the cool, deep quiet lies a covering of stillness. There, unlike any other place, my soul finds rest.
I turn, gently in place, with my eyes lifted up. The dark and otherworldly canopy radiates peace, and its ebb flows over me. I smile and close my eyes, opening up to the gentle and resolute forgiveness. What a gift in this moment. Undeserved, but mine nonetheless.
Nearby leaves flutter with joy as they are tickled by a passing breath. Light flickers as a ray penetrates the leaves. The faint but ecstatic cry of a bird pierces the silence. Rocks crunch beneath my feet.
The moment is gone, and so I move again, slowly, but gaining speed. A smoky cloud at the horizon turns leisurely, catching and consuming all that approaches it. By implacable fate, I must live within its borders, at least temporarily, and so I travel. Time and space flow past me in waves, and I feel the variations on my skin. The heat rises as the whirlwind becomes inevitably adjacent. Its tendrils tug at my clothing as they swirl by. They draw me in.
I stop to steel my mind and brace my shoulders for full immersion, and am reminded of the fleeting nature of circumstance and locale. I turn to look back. The dim, unwavering wall rises in a distant gradient. It beckons, no it reminds. I smile and turn away.
I was just reading through this awesome sneak peak of The Struggle Bus – Ch 1 and realized that I need to re-gain focus on writing the sequel to my first novel Forsaking Home. I write here, not only to scratch the itch, but in order to keep myself in line. However, since the big business downgrade of 2020, my standard writing habits must change and I am finding those changes difficult to enact.
I used to go to Starbucks or some other equivalent and remove all distractions outside of caffeine and laptop. It worked well, and though it usually required a day off from the job, progress moved along nicely.
Now… well I do have a lot to do, but I am still unable to focus on writing at home. There are just too many people, noises, and tasks that require my time. This is a hurdle I need to leap over if I ever want to produce many pages on a regular cadence.
The other big issue is the lack of mental headspace. In fact, I think this is the biggest issue.
Having been a software developer in the past, I have understood that I have limits. These are not limits to tasks that are mundane or uninteresting. There are limits to the ability to produce focused thought and analysis. I can only describe this as being physically tired. The truth is, writing has sufficiently re-informed me of my limits. After a long day at work, and while having a specific interest in being a present and aware parent… I rarely have the headspace to produce actual writing.
I have found that the ideas in detail come out well when I am driving (alone) and I can dictate those details into an email.
I find it fascinating that writing requires a similar level of focus to coding. I can specifically say that, at least for me, I have to have a warm up period where I can become truly focused. I would compare this as the downtime needed before falling asleep. People generally can’t just go from 100mph racing brain directly into bed and expect to fall asleep immediately.
Once I can focus, the details flow.
As a writer, it is up to me to create an environment where I can remain for enough time to settle in and produce.
I had it…. I lost it. Now I need to figure out a new strategy.
