That line—“What matters is a reader, a writer, and interest shared between them. Nothing else.”—felt so stripped-down and right. Like something I’ve known but keep forgetting. Or keep getting talked out of.
I’m a lover of words and tragically beautiful things, poor timing and longing, and all things with soul. I write Fantasy and Sci-Fi, and I’m drawn to the hidden corners of true stories. I also produce podcasts full time.
It’s a lot of voices and noise sometimes—but yours cuts through.
I’ve read and listened to your work for years, and something about the way you keep peeling back the noise to find the pulse of it all—it lands. Not just in the head, but somewhere closer to bone. You make space for honesty in a world that often wants tricks instead.
I don’t write fast. I don’t always write clean. I drift. I circle. I disappear for a while, and then resurface with a handful of something real. I write scripts. I photograph moments I can’t explain. I work with AI too, sometimes—it helps me focus and shape things, like a second brain. My human brain scatters easily. But AI can’t touch the feeling that spills out when the work comes from the raw, unfiltered place only being a wonderfully messy human allows.
It doesn’t know what it means to ache for something that never quite lands.
It can’t long for something lost. It can't dream, only hallucinate.
That matters.
The road trip bit—the way you framed that question, and how you never answered it clean—made me smile. It made me feel seen. I don’t want a map. I want to know why I’m walking.
So I’m wondering: what is it we’re really after when we write? Is it understanding? Belonging? That flicker of “I see you” across the page?
Or is it a sort of exploration of possibilities—a need to express something deep within ourselves?
Maybe the answer to this is also... it depends.
Thanks for writing what you write. You make room for people like me to come back to the page without needing to justify the shape we take.
Thank you for this wonderful comment. Some of what you wrote here reminds me of the way Stephen King described writing (and its other half: reading) in his book On Writing. He said that writing is telepathy. The goal is to take something that exists in the writer's brain and to transport it, as accurately and completely as possible, into the reader's brain. That applies to sensory information, but also to emotions, atmospheric auras, prejudices of characters and their predispositions, quiet backstory (things the character already knows but the writer doesn't want to fully rehash), and more.
I think that's what tends to get buried by all the tips and tricks. Those things can help, but they're also LOUD. The truths are quiet. They don't stand up and demand attention, as important as they are. It's sort of like how one bad review will ruin an author's day, because the bad review is loud ... and yet meanwhile, there are a hundred glowing reviews that nobody really feels because they're quiet. It's why I don't watch the news, because news doesn't convey reality; it conveys the most sensational parts of reality and skips everything that's quiet and okay. Noise is made when there's trouble. Peace never makes any noise at all.
This. "Noise is made when there's trouble. Peace never makes any noise at all." I love that. I'll sleep well tonight. Your words reminded me of a short poem I wrote fourteen years ago and forgot I did. "It’s when I speak less my voice of truth is heard. It’s when I speak less my creative touch is felt. It’s when I speak less my visionary world is seen. I sit in silence." Your words helped me remember who I am. It made my day actually!
Great piece! I resonated with so much. It is an individual journey. It took a lot of time and learning to come to that conclusion. I've been frustrated by the subjectiveness of Self-Publishing on the past, but it is really cool that I can take my own road and do what works best for me. It's empowering!
This stopped me mid-scroll. I just sat with it.
That line—“What matters is a reader, a writer, and interest shared between them. Nothing else.”—felt so stripped-down and right. Like something I’ve known but keep forgetting. Or keep getting talked out of.
I’m a lover of words and tragically beautiful things, poor timing and longing, and all things with soul. I write Fantasy and Sci-Fi, and I’m drawn to the hidden corners of true stories. I also produce podcasts full time.
It’s a lot of voices and noise sometimes—but yours cuts through.
I’ve read and listened to your work for years, and something about the way you keep peeling back the noise to find the pulse of it all—it lands. Not just in the head, but somewhere closer to bone. You make space for honesty in a world that often wants tricks instead.
I don’t write fast. I don’t always write clean. I drift. I circle. I disappear for a while, and then resurface with a handful of something real. I write scripts. I photograph moments I can’t explain. I work with AI too, sometimes—it helps me focus and shape things, like a second brain. My human brain scatters easily. But AI can’t touch the feeling that spills out when the work comes from the raw, unfiltered place only being a wonderfully messy human allows.
It doesn’t know what it means to ache for something that never quite lands.
It can’t long for something lost. It can't dream, only hallucinate.
That matters.
The road trip bit—the way you framed that question, and how you never answered it clean—made me smile. It made me feel seen. I don’t want a map. I want to know why I’m walking.
So I’m wondering: what is it we’re really after when we write? Is it understanding? Belonging? That flicker of “I see you” across the page?
Or is it a sort of exploration of possibilities—a need to express something deep within ourselves?
Maybe the answer to this is also... it depends.
Thanks for writing what you write. You make room for people like me to come back to the page without needing to justify the shape we take.
Thank you for this wonderful comment. Some of what you wrote here reminds me of the way Stephen King described writing (and its other half: reading) in his book On Writing. He said that writing is telepathy. The goal is to take something that exists in the writer's brain and to transport it, as accurately and completely as possible, into the reader's brain. That applies to sensory information, but also to emotions, atmospheric auras, prejudices of characters and their predispositions, quiet backstory (things the character already knows but the writer doesn't want to fully rehash), and more.
I think that's what tends to get buried by all the tips and tricks. Those things can help, but they're also LOUD. The truths are quiet. They don't stand up and demand attention, as important as they are. It's sort of like how one bad review will ruin an author's day, because the bad review is loud ... and yet meanwhile, there are a hundred glowing reviews that nobody really feels because they're quiet. It's why I don't watch the news, because news doesn't convey reality; it conveys the most sensational parts of reality and skips everything that's quiet and okay. Noise is made when there's trouble. Peace never makes any noise at all.
This. "Noise is made when there's trouble. Peace never makes any noise at all." I love that. I'll sleep well tonight. Your words reminded me of a short poem I wrote fourteen years ago and forgot I did. "It’s when I speak less my voice of truth is heard. It’s when I speak less my creative touch is felt. It’s when I speak less my visionary world is seen. I sit in silence." Your words helped me remember who I am. It made my day actually!
Great piece! I resonated with so much. It is an individual journey. It took a lot of time and learning to come to that conclusion. I've been frustrated by the subjectiveness of Self-Publishing on the past, but it is really cool that I can take my own road and do what works best for me. It's empowering!
Yep. Harder to make cash-machine money ... but why are we in this to begin with, really?
Exactly! That's a good question to ask when you're unsure how to approach publishing
Great stuff! Refreshing to come across simplicity that provides clarity. Even better when it's so practical!
Easy to get lost in the sauce with book marketing. Thanks for this reminder.
You had me at John Locke! 🔥
Are you old-school enough to remember publishing's John Locke, or are you more a fan of Hobbes's rival?
(Third option: The character from LOST.)