ONE YEAR LATER
It's a touch melodramatic to say, but Branches: A Novel saved me. Twice.
The past few years have not been easy ones. I wrote Branches as a way to process some real-life tragedies playing out in my life. Some personal, some societal. A story about someone many readers have assumed is meant to be me, because he shares some of my biography. But really all the lead characters in this story are just facets, and the main character is someone filled with some deep regrets I’m fortunate to have largely avoided—and facing societal fears that, thus far, have not come to pass. (Might want to check back in 5 years, just to be safe.) A cautionary tale, in every way.
So the process of writing—the problem solving, the wordsmithing, the catharsis of seeing all the little pieces fall into place—helped to lead me out of a dark place, and in the process I accomplished something I had previously tried and failed to do: become an author. That was its own reward. Check the box. Done. I remember the first sale I made to someone I’d never met, thinking “mission accomplished.” To expect anything more would be greedy.
The second time this book saved me was in seeing so many people take a chance on a totally unknown, unproven writer—friends and family (it means the world, by the way 💓), but also total strangers. SO MANY strangers!
One year and 7,540 copies later, I am overwhelmed with the many thoughtful words (and, sure, a few not-so-thoughtful) I’ve received from people all over the world who connected with this story. From the woman in Davis, California, who stumbled upon my book and invited me to speak on her literary podcast, and even hired an actor to deliver the book’s opening chapters. To an older gentleman in Brazil who favorably compared the story to those of Philip K. Dick, or a young woman in the UK who drew comparisons to Chuck Palahniuk. To the man who, literally just yesterday, emailed to say how much he enjoyed this book he’d found at the public library in Calgary, Alberta(?!).
In short, THANK YOU ALL 📚
The past few years have not been easy ones. I wrote Branches as a way to process some real-life tragedies playing out in my life. Some personal, some societal. A story about someone many readers have assumed is meant to be me, because he shares some of my biography. But really all the lead characters in this story are just facets, and the main character is someone filled with some deep regrets I’m fortunate to have largely avoided—and facing societal fears that, thus far, have not come to pass. (Might want to check back in 5 years, just to be safe.) A cautionary tale, in every way.
So the process of writing—the problem solving, the wordsmithing, the catharsis of seeing all the little pieces fall into place—helped to lead me out of a dark place, and in the process I accomplished something I had previously tried and failed to do: become an author. That was its own reward. Check the box. Done. I remember the first sale I made to someone I’d never met, thinking “mission accomplished.” To expect anything more would be greedy.
The second time this book saved me was in seeing so many people take a chance on a totally unknown, unproven writer—friends and family (it means the world, by the way 💓), but also total strangers. SO MANY strangers!
One year and 7,540 copies later, I am overwhelmed with the many thoughtful words (and, sure, a few not-so-thoughtful) I’ve received from people all over the world who connected with this story. From the woman in Davis, California, who stumbled upon my book and invited me to speak on her literary podcast, and even hired an actor to deliver the book’s opening chapters. To an older gentleman in Brazil who favorably compared the story to those of Philip K. Dick, or a young woman in the UK who drew comparisons to Chuck Palahniuk. To the man who, literally just yesterday, emailed to say how much he enjoyed this book he’d found at the public library in Calgary, Alberta(?!).
In short, THANK YOU ALL 📚
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