AN OLD SOUL
Depression, anxiety, and burnout came to a head in the summer of 2024. I felt like I had wandered into the middle of a long, cold tunnel, with no light at either end.
In July of that year, I realized I needed to disappear. I had to get away from the constant noise we’re all flooded with, so I took a weeklong solo retreat to a remote cabin, where I simply sat and listened. Most of us, I think, have never truly experienced quiet. It was so calm there that I could hear the wind rushing through distant trees moments before the breeze touched my skin. I could hear squirrels scraping bark as they climbed, and a chorus of birdsong that felt more intimate and profound.
Most importantly, that quiet escape allowed me to finally hear myself. I realized the truest version of me speaks even softer than my own voice. Not strained, just unheard until then.
I opened my laptop, thankfully there was no internet access there, and began to write what became the beginning of An Old Soul. The first barbershop scene was written as I sat on top of a picnic table, with my feet flat on the bench.
That story came to me in synchronous pieces. At times, it felt like each scene or line of dialogue was being ladled out by some divine soup kitchen for the soul-hungry. As the story took shape, I found myself living inside its world—not just its architect, but an inhabitant watching it evolve around me.
When I returned home after a week, the story-building took off. I sat at my desk for several hours a day, with my stiff knees as witness. Before long, I had a first draft.
Finishing An Old Soul was bittersweet. I had created the coziest and safest home away from the world for myself, and my time there was coming to an end. As a writer, at least. That feeling wouldn’t last long. While still reviewing edits on An Old Soul, I heard a faint knock at the door of my imagination. Then a louder one. Then pounding. Something new wanted in. Willow Rose, my second story, was desperate to be scribbled.
Music is the one thing I must have when writing, more than sleep. I’m writing this after being up for 24 hours and I hadn’t eaten much over the same time period—I panicked when I realized my earbuds were dying. I have it playing through a bluetooth speaker now, and every time someone texts it goes quiet for a second, and each time—my fingers stop typing.
It’s the soul of my writing. I even sneak little clues and foreshadowing in the song references. There may be some easter eggs in the music lyrics, titles, etc.
“Mountains” – Prince and the Revolution
Synchronicity has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. In recent years, it happens almost daily, sometimes more than once. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but it still blows my mind every single time.
Not to sound fatalistic, but I sometimes wonder if each of us has a trail already laid out, breadcrumbs and all. Synchronicity feels like the moment your internal compass lines up with the map, when you start to see the signs for what they are. Once you tune in, they seem to multiply. There’s a kind of compounding magic to it.
Honestly, these moments keep my hairs standing on end.
If you ever find yourself lost in the woods… stop. Look for the breadcrumbs. They’re small, but they’re there.
“We’re All Free / Kage Ni Natte” – Yumi Matsutoya
I’m a new writer in the indie community myself, still figuring it out as I go. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the resources are out there. If you’re motivated, you can do this.
I don’t have a lot of wisdom yet, but I’ll say this: write your story, then sell your story, but keep a balance.
The selling side of indie publishing can be soul-draining. Marketing your book, running “Read Me” social media campaigns, pleading with bookstores to shelve a few copies on the rear shelves … some of us hate that.
We’d rather be lost in the worlds of our imagination. We’d rather be shaping the perfect orange sunset, with a breeze off crystal water, hoping someone else feels the same breath of relief we felt while writing it.
We’d rather be hovering quietly above the page while our characters dance to the rhythm of our fingertips.
Remember how you cried when your character… stepped on a Lego?
Don’t forget the laughter either.
That’s why we do this. That’s where we live.
Whether your book sells or not, tell your stories.
With heart,
A fellow n00b
“Figure it Out – Night Edit” – Ekkah
