It all began many years ago, as many life experiences do, as a faintly glimmering dream lodged in the back recesses of my brain. It seemed silly at times to even consider the possibility. Could I do it? Maybe. Should I try it? Possibly. Did I have any reason to believe it would succeed? Not really.
But the thought I had in mind wouldn’t go away. Instead of fading into oblivion, it captured my imagination and began to grow. The more I thought about it, the more I felt the need to at least make an effort. It wouldn’t go away until I proved, one way or the other, whether it was reality or just a fantasy.
No, I’m not talking about running the Boston Marathon or anything like that. But what I’m describing does have an interesting symmetry with the experience athletes have in pursuing their sport. There’s an inner drive or compulsion that pushes you on in spite of the odds clearly being stacked against you. The experience I’m relating is that of writing my book, Like Riding a Bike: A Cycle Logical Exploration of Life.
The idea for the book had its birth during my college years – the lessons of cycling parallel those of life. It seemed simple and straightforward. Surely someone must have written a book like that, but I could find none. I thought, “Well, maybe I’ll just have to write it myself.” Ha! Who am I to think I can write a book (or be an athlete, or…)? But the seed had been planted.
As the years after college passed, I gained more and varied experiences riding bikes. I toured. I raced. I rode for transportation. I pedaled for fun. I also spent time thinking about life and about how you can go about living it. And I noticed a lot of parallel lessons along the way. And still, nobody had written the book.
Finally, at some point, I couldn’t take it any more. I had to satisfy my curiosity. I had to try. I had to let the book inside me out. I spent nearly a year laying the groundwork. I sketched out ideas and developed a plan of attack. I mustered the dedication and discipline needed for a long-term commitment toward exercising my dream. Then I began the real work, writing the manuscript.
One year and 200,000 words later I had the first draft of my book. It was a bit rough and unwieldy, but it was a promising start. Like the sports I had come to love, I knew it would take time to refine it into something more worthy, but there was satisfaction in reaching the first of many milestones.
With a manuscript in hand, I turned my efforts to seeking a publisher. I had written the book out of the personal need to do it, but that’s not to say my fantasy didn’t include becoming a best-selling author. While I didn’t hang my livelihood or self-worth on publication, I also didn’t surrender the dream. It became a hobby – send out a few proposals every month and watch the rejection folder slowly grow.
As I waited for my publication dreams to come to full fruition, I went back and worked on the book itself. I had learned a lot about writing as I worked through the first draft, and I learned even more by paying attention to writers, publishers, agents, and friends. The lessons are out there, if you’re open and willing to receive them. That’s how you improve.
Over time, I worked through three major revisions. Each cycle involved honing my skills, trimming the excess (now it’s down to less than 50,000 words), and sharpening my focus.
Sadly, the publishing industry doesn’t seem to be quite ready for a totally unique and insightful book like mine. But the dream lives, and I have the persistence of a marathoner. I’ve worked a with self-publishing house called Xlibris to bring my vision to life – or at least to paperback. So in the end, I’ve found a way to fulfill that crackpot idea from years ago. But is it the end or is it just the beginning? There’s still that whole best-seller thing to work on. Anything is possible if you keep working toward it. Dreams can fuel a lifetime.
If you’d like to see what dreaming can accomplish, look for my book in the bookstore of www.xlibris.com (author name Jim Edwards – it’s shorter and easier). Or you can check “Book” section of my web site LRBconnections.com. I promise to sign it the next time you see me.