After a mid-day Miami rainstorm opened my eyes, I put my head down and got to work on the story that would eventually become Spacewalker. I did it all in secret—not hard when you live on your own in a one-bedroom apartment.
When friends and family would ask, “Hey David, what have you been up to lately?” I often struggled to give a good answer back.
“Not much.” Or, “Just hanging out.”
Nothing about how I was wending my way slowly to Neptune’s Lagrange point, or how I’d discovered a rather motley crew of eight, or that I was researching some of the more interesting science-y bits of the story. I kept it all inside until I was certain this wasn’t just another passing whim that I would banish to a folder on the depths of my hard drive never-to-be opened again.
Around 36,000 words into the original draft, I reached a point of no return in the story. Later, I’d learn that from a structural perspective, that this is called The First Plot Point. Like my main character, Edred Starling, I too was ready to leave the old world behind and enter the unknown, come what may. Unlike Edred Starling, I wasn’t isolated on a spacecraft and surrounded by a crew of liars. Quite the opposite—I was ready come clean about what I’d been up to the past five months.
It happened again on a weekend evening at a restaurant, seated with five wonderful friends. The question: “Hey David, what have you been up to lately?”
I took a deep breath and told the truth. I was writing a science fiction novel.
Their reactions were immediate and supportive—smiles and questions. What’s the title? What’s it about? When can we read it?
Wow.
Now, somewhat embarrassingly, I couldn’t easily answer any of these questions.
Title—I didn’t have one of those just yet. We took to calling it The Pepperjack Chronicles for the next several months as a joke.
Pitch—I didn’t know about having a one-line pitch at the ready to describe my novel. I stumbled through the premise and main character’s headspace for a few moments (thankfully, our booth was a judgment-free zone). With hindsight being what it is, I could have dropped something like this on them: A cynical astronaut seeks the truth of his missing memory and is entangled in a deadly feud over ancient technology that will make or break the climate-ravaged Earth.
Beta readers—suddenly, and quite by accident, I had four volunteers to beta read my novel. I wasn’t ready for that just yet, since I had so much more to write and hadn’t even settled on an ending. But I promised them I’d have a draft ready for them by the next summer.
Letting my friends in on my writing journey was a wonderful relief. Almost overnight, I had a support system. No longer alone on my voyage to Neptune’s Lagrange point, I was picking up a crew of my own.
I quickly learned that putting my goals out into the world didn’t magically make me a harder worker or better writer. I still had so much to do, now with the added pressure of other people’s eyes on me.
I hunkered down, researched, wrote, rewrote, and by next summer, I had something for my friends to read. Still untitled, still incomplete, still not very good (once again, I am eternally grateful for their patience and enthusiasm). But it was real, and I was ready to for some feedback.