I love movies about World War II, and one I’ve watched several times is Greyhound, starring Tom Hanks as the captain of a destroyer in the Atlantic during the war, when the US was shipping tremendous amounts of material to the UK, and US Navy destroyers had to guard the convoys against German U-boats.
It turns out there was a section of the middle of the Atlantic that American air cover (sub bombers) couldn’t reach because it was too far from any air bases. This section of ocean, known as the Black Pit, took three days to cross, and invariably it was the part of the Atlantic the Germans focused their U-boat operations on. The movie does a great job showing the nonstop peril that the destroyer Greyhound is under, and the work and vigilance the crew has to undertake to protect the convoy through the most dangerous part of the journey.
This crossing of the Black Pit got me thinking about my own (admittedly much less perilous) work with the Bodaciously books.
After a solid decade of writing the entire 1.25 million-word, 9-book episodic novel, since last fall I’ve been working nonstop revising, polishing and publishing each episode; promoting the books; and doing the “business” of authorship. As a result, my sleep, nutrition, exercise and overall health have suffered.
In July, I threw out my lower back–strained or sprained a damn ligament–and in September, I got an extremely bad chest cold which, in hindsight, I think might have been COVID. Then, two weeks ago, I got another chest cold, or I hadn’t fully gotten over the one I had in September. When I noticed my breathing was slushy and wheezy, I finally went to the doctor and was told I had bronchitis. I was prescribed medication (more medication, frankly, than I’ve taken in my entire life) and am now “on the mend.”
In the meantime, while battling these ailments, I refined, finalized and published Episodes IV and V of Bodaciously, officially putting me over the hump, or through the Black Pit. I’m close to finishing Episode VI as well; I should have it typeset and in proof/preorder form before Christmas, and it will be released in March 2027.
To shepherd the books through the Black Pit, I had to work 12- to 16-hour days; I ate poorly and didn’t have the time, energy or enthusiasm for regular exercise. And I had to work with virtually no outside encouragement or support, making the middle period of this project incredibly lonely.
The fact is, this is how it works with any long, arduous project. In the beginning, it’s just you and the words, or you and the paint, or you and the business idea, and it’s nothing but unending, lonely-ass WORK. Then you “go public,” publishing the books, displaying the art, opening the business, and when you do this there are always a lot of supporters, well-wishers, encouragers, fans and admirers around who enjoy the thrill of the new thing.
I think of them like the people who would see off boats during the golden age of Transatlantic liners: partying on the boat with traveling friends until the horn blew for shore call, and waving from the wharf until the boat dipped over the shimmering horizon.
When it comes down to it, these people have their own lives, so I can’t blame them for having gone the heck home after the boat left. They didn’t sign on for the Black Pit; that’s the creator’s job. I’m the novelist; it’s my job to get my book series (the convoy) safely across the Atlantic, through critics, naysayers, haters, jealous wannabes, and snobs (the U-boats) to its final destination (the publication of nine extremely well-written novels).
Of course when I reach port one year from now, I’m hoping there will be a much larger crowd of fans, readers, book buyers, supporters, journalists, etc. than the crowd that saw me off at the beginning. I’m confident this is what will happen. But while crossing the Black Pit, I had a realization.
Even if there’s no one at the destination to greet me next year, it doesn’t matter because I will have accomplished something unequivocally, indisputably great. I will have safely shepherded a nine-book convoy across an overwhelming chasm of ocean, and done it to the absolute best of my ability.
I will have given the books everything I have, and I know they will stand the test of time. And even if I were to die soon thereafter, the books I leave behind are forever.
