NOTE: This article is just an elaborate plug for my debut novel. Enjoy!
What If All the Light We Cannot See Just Doesn’t Want to Be Seen? ⚡✨️
If I transmute all my light into a novel, would the world pay attention? Or will my life’s work be overshadowed (and overlooked) like everything else I’ve written?
"Artists are people driven by the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide."
- Donald Woods Winnicott
As a writer, I have often felt powerless against the forces beyond my keyboard, which leads me to believe every word I write is fated to be lost among all the noise.
Most, if not all, artists feel paralyzed and/or driven by the fear that nothing they make will make a lasting impact. I’m almost sure of this.
But I'll be damned if I didn't at least try.
The internet has made the world smaller, but our attention spans have narrowed.
It’s like we’re all throwing pieces of our souls at the wall and seeing who pays attention.
But either way, we all scroll onward to get our fill of more content, more novelty. It’s only a short time before what you made is completely forgotten and off the grid entirely.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
What if all the light we cannot see just doesn’t want to be seen?
Doesn’t the light yearn to be wondered about or thought of?
Does this light pass up every opportunity to be fully perceived?
Maybe the light is afraid the world won’t even see it, ultimately.
Does it hide in shady forests, vibrant flower beds, and tangled shrubs?
Does it bury itself under sand in its best impression of a socially anxious ostrich? Or lost treasure insecure about how much or how little it shines?
Yo, this light is just like me fr…
Maybe the light is afraid to be seen — because to be seen means to be known, and to be known means to be forgotten in time.
How many artists, particularly writers, never try to leap out of obscurity, weighed down by the fear that failure will lead them back to it anyway?
"We rise again in the grass. In the flowers. In songs."
- Anthony Doerr
The antidote to this despair is to keep making new light while you can, more art—just as sure as the sun returns each daybreak.
But unlike artists, the sun has no use for encouragement, engagement, or, y'know, how many people believe in its ability to light up the planet.
It shines like it doesn’t give a single photon what anyone thinks. The sun needs no hype man, gratitude, or fans, much less friends.
Though I heard it sometimes likes to get superimposed upon by the moon. Sounds hot, honestly.
I once aspired to radiate energy like the sun. Still, I burned up or plummeted to rock bottom every time, realizing how human I am.
Growing up on stories helped me realize our humanness, flaws, desires, f-f-f-feelings, and all that other stuff connects us. It's common ground. It's universal. And not the kind of stuff that should be banned.
When I was a kid, my mom read books to me at bedtime, from Harry to Beatrix Potter. She instilled in me a love for storytelling.
I've been working on a massive project that, with every new day, is becoming increasingly ready to come into the world. To be seen. To be heard. And—hopefully—be read.
I've had nightmares where I release my life's work... and it just flops. Nobody wants to read it. And a cruel twist of fate makes it so it only finds an audience after my death. So it goes.
It’s an M. Night Shyamalan plot twist that only blindsides one person—me, rolling like an 8-ball in my grave. Imagine starring in that flick: this labour of love you’ve worked on for a massive chunk of your life gets totally ignored by the world.
Every writer’s nightmare, really.
If it flops, would I brush it off and keep going? Probably. But I wonder if my confidence as a writer will ever recover. And "Recovery" has been an overarching theme of my 20s.
If you've been following me for longer than it takes to read this, you would know I'm very open about what I've been through.
I’ve published pieces on Medium about mental health, and in doing so, I risked compromising how family, friends (and even employers) view me as a person. But y’know what? I’ve already accomplished that by popping off and making a fool of myself on social media during my lowest (or "highest") points.
So why shouldn’t I own my narrative?
Why not take power back from the hardships that once rendered me powerless?
Why not tell my story my way?
Why not spit in the face of stigma and make it look sexy?
What's the alternative? Pull a Bruce Wayne, cower away, and ghost the world by hiding in some makeshift Batcave to brood from sunrise to sunset while listening to Nirvana? Y'all know I can't afford that life.
As the saying goes: "They will judge you anyways."
Stigma is Kryptonite for those who struggle with mental illness. It instills in us a fear that "talking about it" will prompt society to label us sick, defective, or dangerous.
Who doesn’t fear being treated like an outcast, demonized for something you cannot control?
Does it get any worse than that? Actually, it does. You could act a fool publicly and be memed to infinity like Kanye.
Doesn't matter how often you hear, "You're not alone," either. It becomes an empty consolation. Deep down, you know others suffer like you do… *but where are they?*
You need to be part of a support group or hospitalized to find them. Otherwise, they could be anyone. Yur neighbour, your coworker, your boss… Invisible illnesses do be like that, veering into the realm of intangible, theoretical…
…Like all the light you cannot see during a dark night of the soul…
The light is ever-present though, even on the darkest of nights.
But you gotta look for it.
Maybe the light is hiding within the covers of a book. Do you think that’s why it’s called "Literature"? I’ll show myself out.
I still wonder if my "record lows" will ever not overshadow my future and how people see me.
I’d be lying if I said I’m not motivated by the idea of redeeming myself in the eyes of the people who know me, or knew me.
I carry a lot of regret in my heart, and it surges to the surface more often than I’d like to admit. I don’t know if this will ever go away.
But I know that creating meaningful art alleviates those feelings—reminds me my soul is still intact.
The novel will be called Terra Incognita.
It features an ensemble cast of larger-than-life personalities, including a character named William Blue (my self-insert).
I will self-publish it serially in three volumes (or "Books") on Gumroad and Amazon. But the three volumes comprise one overarching storyline, one novel.
I aim to ultimately publish all three volumes in physical form, either as three separate books or as one epic tome. That remains to be seen. 👀
The rollout has already started. Check out the Instagram hashtag #csc_terraINCOGNITA.
Terra Incognita centers around special agent Parker Shiro, who is tasked with the undercover investigation of Aurum City, an isolated "smart city" located in the Californian desert—blocked off from the world by four gold walls and an artificial sky.
When an extraction mission goes wrong, Parker must find his own way back to the outside world, all while navigating an uprising that threatens to swallow the city up whole.
〽️〽️〽️
I’ve released 12 songs on streaming services in character as William Blue.
You can find my catalogue on Spotify, Apple Music, Tidal, YouTube Music, Deezer, and Soundcloud.
The soundtrack is available on Spotify: Terra Incognita (Soundtrack).
There is no set release date for Book I. I’m playing it by ear and focusing on marketing/promotion at present.
At its core, Terra Incognita is a story about humanity, its place in the future, and its reckoning with the past.
If I transmute all my light into a novel, would the world pay attention?
Or will my life’s work be overshadowed and overlooked like everything else I’ve written?
After all, it’s mine to keep inside, and to give away as I see fit. Without me, this light would never be seen. I take solace in knowing that. And I hope one day, the words I write will make an impact, will matter — to someone, somewhere — on this world, or elsewhere.
I guess, we’ll see…
