3,697 Days (and Counting)

For over ten years, or 3,697 days to be exact, I’ve been work­ing on a nov­el about teens in the 1980s. The nov­el even­tu­al­ly became so long (over a mil­lion words, and twice the length of War and Peace) that I had to split it into nine books or episodes.

The result, Boda­cious­ly True & Total­ly Awe­some: The Leg­endary Adven­tures of Avery “Ace” Craig, An ’80s Amer­i­can Teen Epic, dra­ma­tizes the lives of Ace and his friends in a rur­al-sub­ur­ban high school set­ting. (By the way, it’s much bet­ter than I’m mak­ing it sound; I’m ter­ri­ble at con­dens­ing my mil­lion-plus words into book jack­et copy.)

I wrote Boda­cious­ly to be a sto­ry for and about my generation—Gen X—a gen­er­a­tion that has long been unap­pre­ci­at­ed, mar­gin­al­ized, and mis­un­der­stood. I wrote it to give peo­ple my age an escape back to a sim­pler time, a time when all of life was ahead of us and we didn’t have the inter­net, AI, track­ing, and algo­rithms in our lives. I wrote it to give the younger gen­er­a­tions (and future gen­er­a­tions) some idea of what it was like to be a teen in the mid-1980s. And I wrote it for read­ers, not critics—for peo­ple who just want an enjoy­able book that keeps them read­ing.

For 3,697 days (with the excep­tion of 47 days; there were a hand­ful of bouts with ill­ness and a few short vaca­tions), I’ve wok­en up and writ­ten and/or revised a cou­ple thou­sand words, work­ing an aver­age of 10 hours per day. I wrote the ear­ly drafts with pen­cils or type­writ­ers,  and I iso­lat­ed myself, stay­ing off the inter­net and only lis­ten­ing to music and watch­ing movies and TV shows from the 1980s. And, with the excep­tion of my wife and Muse (who han­dled the busi­ness side of things and read the penul­ti­mate drafts of each episode to give me feed­back) and a tal­ent­ed graph­ic design­er Vic­to­ria Heath Silk (who designed the book cov­ers), I did all of the work myself: writ­ing, edit­ing, book design, type­set­ting, proof­read­ing, ebook cre­ation, pro­mo­tion, etc.

I did all of this work in less than ide­al con­di­tions, in ad hoc work­spaces, in spite of numer­ous envi­ron­men­tal dis­trac­tions. Even when I wrote in the far­thest recess­es of the base­ment gov­ern­ment doc­u­ments room of Vas­sar College’s Thomp­son Memo­r­i­al Library, I still had to con­tend with a cer­tain annoy­ing woman nois­i­ly pass­ing my remote cubi­cle dur­ing her morn­ing “con­sti­tu­tion­al” through the library. For five years, I lived next door to a woman (who clear­ly had OCD) who used a leaf­blow­er on her prop­er­ty start­ing at 6:00 a.m. for hours straight, and for the sec­ond five years I lived in a com­plex where the only tools the build­ings and grounds guy knew how to use were a snow­blow­er and a leaf­blow­er. Despite these dis­trac­tions (and many, many more includ­ing solic­i­tors at my door, pow­er out­ages, bro­ken hot water heaters, bro­ken bones, and deaths), I kept going.

I did all of this while bat­tling depres­sion and men­tal ill­ness, often ris­ing at 3:00 or 4:00 o’clock in the morn­ing, pray­ing and med­i­tat­ing, ask­ing the uni­verse for the strength to keep going and guid­ance on what to write next, and bat­tling the grem­lins that told me dai­ly when I first woke, “What the f‑ck are you doing, Orcutt?! Nobody’s going to want to read this sh‑t! Nine books and 1.2 mil­lion words about teens in the 1980s?! Who gives a f‑ck? Peo­ple are going to hate it. You should go back to writ­ing Dako­ta and Svet­lana mys­ter­ies. All right, maybe a few peo­ple will love it, but there are going to be lots of critics—especially with all the teen sex you have in these books. What are you, dude, dis­eased? What will your loy­al read­ers think? What will your moth­er think? What about all the peo­ple who are going to write to you and com­plain?”

Every day, for 3,697 days, I bat­tled these voic­es, and every day I even­tu­al­ly ignored them and sol­diered on. I was inspired to keep going by my wife and a cou­ple of great friends and rel­a­tives (they know who they are), but most­ly by two quo­ta­tions that I framed and hung on my office wall:

“It always seems impos­si­ble until it’s done.”
—Nel­son Man­dela

“There are just cer­tain human beings able to put one foot in front of the oth­er relent­less­ly, psy­cho­log­i­cal­ly able to do it, where­as oth­er peo­ple would fail.” *

There were many, many days when I want­ed to quit, when I want­ed to throw my type­writer out the win­dow, when I was sure I couldn’t write anoth­er word. But it was nev­er in me to quit, and the words just kept com­ing. A mil­lion and a half of them before I start­ed to cut them back.

I’m not telling you all of this to puff myself up, to say, “Hey, look at how amaz­ing I am by work­ing through this stuff and fin­ish­ing this gar­gan­tu­an book!” I’m telling you this because I’ve been work­ing on some­thing for over ten years, and now it’s time to pub­lish the books, and I’m look­ing at what I’ve done and I can’t believe it. How can some­body work on one thing for 3,697 days? Where did this sin­gle-mind­ed obses­sion of mine come from? Am I more men­tal­ly ill than I thought? Is the result going to be worth it? Will read­ers like it?

I’m encour­aged by the ear­ly reviews of Boda­cious­ly by pro­fes­sion­al review­ers and read­ers on Net­Gal­ley and Library­Thing. About 80% of the review­ers have loved the book, about 10% have thought it meh, and about 10% have hat­ed it. But, of the read­ers who have loved it, the con­sen­sus is that I’ve cre­at­ed “a time machine” back to when­ev­er the read­er was a teenag­er. One review­er wrote a review so encour­ag­ing that I print­ed it out and post­ed it on a bul­letin board in my office. A bold­ed sec­tion reads,

Guess what? Chris Orcutt has it dead on. He pegged my teen years.

I think the most dis­com­bob­u­lat­ing thing going on here is this: after 3,697 days of work­ing, of mak­ing each sen­tence, each page, each chap­ter, each book the very best I can make it; after a year of pro­mo­tion, reviews, adver­tis­ing, inter­views and more, it’s out of my hands. I’ve done all I can do, and that’s a hard thing to accept when you’ve been work­ing on some­thing for one-third of your career and one-fifth of your life.

I’ve done all I can, Dear Read­er, and now the rest is up to you.

The fate of Boda­cious­ly is in the hands of Read­ers Like You: buy­ing the books, read­ing the books, review­ing the books, and spread­ing the word about them.

I’ve done my very best, and now I have to let them go.

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Boda­cious­ly True & Total­ly Awe­some: Episode I, Bad Boy is avail­able at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and your local book­store.

(The LEGO mod­el of the Space Shut­tle above was built by my clever nephew Aydin Mahoney.)

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* From Beyond the Edge, the doc­u­men­tary about Sir Edmund Hillary and Tens­ing Norgay’s sum­mit­ing of Mt. Ever­est in 1953.

By Chris Orcutt

CHRIS ORCUTT is an American novelist and fiction writer with over 30 years' writing experience and more than a dozen books in his oeuvre. Since 2015, Chris been working exclusively on his magnum opus. Bodaciously True & Totally Awesome: The Legendary Adventures of Avery “Ace” Craig is a 9-episode novel about teens in the 1980s. It’s about ’80s teens, but for adults (in other words, it’s decidedly not YA literature), and he’s applied this epic storytelling approach to the least examined, most misunderstood, most marginalized narrative space in American literature: the lives and inner worlds of teenagers.

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