I Wrote a Book

I’m not a word nerd, and I’m ambivalent about my ability to craft a gripping fictional narrative. But my gravitation toward language is intrinsic. The underlying structure that creates a place for the semantical flowering of mutually understood expressions is what fascinates me. Why can we say colorless green ideas sleep furiously but not green furiously ideas colorless sleep? 

And then there is rhythm. The thought of rhythm struck me once or twice while I wrote this book. When I would write, then revise, then edit, then edit again, I realized I was chasing a hum: There is in every sentence a rhythm, and many of these sentences searched between walls and rooms and into nooks and crannies for the place of emanation; but most failed. I think some got close. It’s as if the fallen were searching for grace, elusive reverberations. There is a beat to which every sentence flows. But to where is it flowing? For me, I think I seek to craft language to connect with the spiritual and the emotional. 

From the innumerable hours of talking to myself in the 2 ams to my hundreds of pages of both written and typed personal reflections, getting the chaotic thoughts out and into a systematic structure has always helped ease my mind that is a runaway train that, on occasion, takes flight into the air, briefly, before crashing and deeply impacting the life, leaving a crater that, only by time’s wind, is clothed by the trees. 

This book was supposed to be ready for Christmas. Haha. No. So, this new year’s I offer the gift of letting go: We’re All Gonna Die One Day.  

I wrote it. Then I revised it from the top-down. Then I revised it from the bottom-up. Then I proofread it. And it still isn’t perfect, and it never will be, but I lay to rest any questionable commas. I tried my best—as I relied upon only my eyes and a few books on punctuation, for punctuation provides a flow, an aid in the structure of the reading. I was often torn between grammatical aid and rhythm. Damn commas: As I wrote, I realized I was dissatisfied with my understanding of this versatile mark of punctuation. (Never listen to any style book that states commas are straightforward in their use. That is a lie. They are like duct tape, and one would not believe their potential.) Punctuation is more like a language; among its kingdom are many dialects. So do whatever you want.   

Thank you to Rachel Raasch who gracefully orchestrated the cover. She gave color to what I’ve crafted. 

And thank you to Yukun Yang: Over several zoom calls, in which we shared my screen, we learned a few interesting things about formatting a book in Microsoft Word. 

And aside from a few close friends who eyed my spacing and tacky font choices, this project is solely my undertaking. 

Twenty months ago, I sat down as a freshly graduated student, now a student of the “real world,” and I intended to compose a short personal reflection upon the previous four years of my life. Gradually, I realized I had a lot within myself that needed releasing: Ten pages turned into 50 and 50 into a 100. And then some. 

Yukun Yang is the reason I finished it when I did, and not in the year 3021. But he wouldn’t want me to say that. He would say that it was of my own volition.

Click here to obtain a copy.