Wallpapers

Greetings, souldiers, and may the weather be a sign!

On behalf of the Adjutant Corps, I am pleased to announce the release of several images that are now available for official use.

There are three designs, two of which are more suitable to mobile devices, while the third is formatted for larger devices such as terminals and transifax pads.

During your time in Central, you have no doubt seen the seven-pointed star of Central on the fortress and many of the city’s other civic buildings. However, if you have yet to pass field training and receive an assignment on the Line, you might not be as familiar with its meaning.

The seven-pointed star of Central is one of the souldiers’ oldest symbols from the Age of Awakening. And, like many of the souldiers’ older traditions, it is rich in meaning.

Each of the seven points represents one of the major continents on Earth, the largest representing the homeland of the enemy, otherwise known as the ‘sundered continent’ or the ‘lost continent’. The star is always depicted upside down in mourning, with each of the points bound by the Line. The colour is important as well, representing one of the most important things that separates us from the enemy.

Can you guess what it stands for?

As for the background, be warned that it can get extremely humid on the Line during the summer months. Sudden rain on a hot morning often draws out the moisture in the jungle, creating clouds of mist that gather about the mountaintops. Spot commanders are advised to avoid similar conditions unless absolutely necessary due to decreased visibility; if you must enter affected areas, extreme caution is advised.

Further communications to follow.

Until then, good fortune!

Finding New Year’s resolutions in an uncertain world

Happy New Year!

Across the world, the clock strikes twelve, signalling the end to a hectic and traumatic year. And now, as the fireworks fade and the year begins anew, I find myself wondering what the next twelve might bring.

Will they be better?

Will they be worse?

Even though I spent the year in an area less affected by the spread of the Coronavirus, I still found myself feeling its effects in ways I hadn’t expected. For example, as an introvert, I’m used to being at home, but I didn’t expect to miss an important connection with nature (also affected by the bushfires in Australia) as much as I did. Travel restrictions meant I couldn’t get out to see my colleagues in person as I had in past years, making it difficult to maintain closer connections. And, as a highly sensitive person, my feelings of anxiety over the state of affairs in the world and my worry for those in my life grew to a steady, constant stream that made it hard to focus or relax.

If the challenges I encountered were unexpected, however, then my response to them was equally so. Instead of turning to new things or making great changes in the way things were, my refuge came from questioning things I had long taken for granted instead. Was my work environment at home set up in a way that was actually comfortable and conducive to being productive? Was I reaching out to people in ways that helped me feel connected, and just what were my communication preferences, anyway?

In an uncertain world, my antidote was to make small changes, not take giant leaps.

Perhaps this goes a ways in explaining a problem I’ve always had with another curiosity of the change in calendars – New Year’s resolutions. On the one hand, the perennial list maker in me has always found them a great way to focus on the things I want to achieve in the coming year. But on the other, well… let’s just say I’m keenly aware of how often I fail to meet them.

(Then again, is there any surprise that it feels hard to suddenly get up and start going for runs in the morning when you never did so before? Just the thought of it makes me want to hit my alarm and get five more minutes in bed.)

What I’m coming to realise about New Year’s resolutions is that they are a change, just like any other. And that, just like any other change, I need to plot them out as a journey rather than treat them as a set of goals to achieve right away. And so, this year, I’m making the small changes that saw me through the previous year into my mantra for the coming one. I’m viewing the start of the year as exactly that – the first step towards goals that can take a year to achieve, measured in one small, incremental step after the other.

Here’s what I’ve got:

Exercise

I know, I know – I already moaned and complained about getting up and going for runs earlier in the post, but that’s not entirely what I had in mind. I already walk and jog, do some martial arts, but these are merely disconnected dots in a life spent mainly in front of a computer, typing away at a keyboard.

Late last year, at the recommendation of my wife, I began doing a series of stretches after waking up and before going to bed. I’ve never been particularly good at incorporating physical activities into my daily routine, but when the start is as small as a few seconds on one or two stretches, things get suddenly easier. Once that becomes familiar, another can be added, and so on until a routine takes shape in full.

Understanding

I’ve never been a very big user of social media, so when I started this website and became more active in other forums such as Twitter and LinkedIn, it was a bit of a shock to the system. What did I have to say? Would anyone read it, and how could someone who is not good at self-promotion get the word out?

What I’ve come to realise is that even though I feel emotions quite strongly, I don’t always connect them to what’s going on at the time. When I’m upset, there’s usually a specific reason, but it rears its head as a generalised sense of frustration at first. And even though I have many interests and many things to say about them, most of it ends locked up in my head in a similar way.

Although this is a problem I personally struggle with, I suspect it’s something other introverts and highly sensitive people deal with as well. Over the coming year, I plan to get better at telling myself to stop and think before reacting. In doing so, I’m hoping to find better ways to deal with situations that tend to feel overwhelming, and get better at articulating myself.

Gratitude

This brings us to my third and final point – giving thanks.

Throughout the challenges of the previous year, I found there were many things that I was grateful for as well. Not just the big things either, but being able to wake up in a safe place, to greet the dawn once more, and to feel the change of seasons. They say that sometimes, you don’t fully appreciate some things until you lose them, and last year made me painfully aware of the many things I enjoy each day, but took for granted.

I’m also eternally grateful for the many people who have shown me support over my own journey. As much as writing a story or creating articles is a personal activity, it’s a form of communication like any other, and I wouldn’t be where I am today without your support. In the coming year, I want to not only show gratitude for the small things, but connect this with my goal above and be a better person to you all.

And with that, this feels like a good place to wrap things up.

To all of you who have followed my work over the previous year, who have supported my journey in any way, thank you. It has been a great pleasure to be there and take part in your lives as well in some way, shape, or form, and I hope the coming year is a good one for you.

I’m sure we’ll connect more directly some time in the coming months, but until then, take care, and may your days be long.

It’s here!

Hi everyone,

After years of writing, months of editing, and weeks of anticipation, I’m thrilled to finally announce the release of my debut novel, Souldier –

Get it today on Amazon via the links above, or on Apple Books via the following:

Get it on Apple Books

After such a long time in the works, it’s a strange sensation seeing this story out there in the ‘real world’ alongside other authors and books. It’s a cathartic one as well, and as I stumble my way through these first steps in getting everything out there, I find myself eternally grateful for the support and enthusiasm of a great many people who have helped me get where I am today.

Many thanks go to my amazing beta readers, Tahlia Richardson, Martin Lopes, Lucy Bopf, Alex Wellstead, and Ellie Minto, and to Brice Fallen for sharing his insight into and knowledge of the publishing industry. Their advice and feedback has helped me grow as a writer in ways I could never have imagined, and I am deeply appreciative of the time and expertise they have shared with me.

Many thanks must also go to my wonderful wife, Chie, who has stood with me every step of this process, given my encouragement when I felt down, and gave me the strength to keep on going. Everything I am today, I am because of her.

And last but by no means least, thank you to you as well, dear reader. As I have mentioned before in other posts and forums, this series touches on a number of themes that are incredibly personal to me, and it is thanks to the support and consideration you have given me over this process that I have been able to find the courage to speak so openly about them.

Whether you go on to read the full series or your adventures remain here, I thank you for whatever serendipity has brought you to this page, and wish you good fortune.

Until next, may the day be yours.

10 Things to Do on Sabbatical – One Year On

When the opportunity came, I was well and truly in need of a break. After ten years of moving country and moving home, of changing and building careers and juggling the demands of my personal life with those of my professional one, the rigours of a busy lifestyle were taking their toll. My wife knew it – I knew it – but it wasn’t until the stars aligned in that tenth year that I could finally take an extended period away from work to rest, recharge, and relax. [1]

That short time away from work was a welcome one, but to take full advantage of it, I knew that it had to be more than just an extended holiday. Instead, some parts of it had to stick. But which ones would they be? Would the space and awareness that I found survive the rigours of a return to a full-time job, and would I find, as one colleague suggested, that I had changed for good?

With these questions in mind, I vowed to return in one year’s time to reflect on how it all went. In doing so, I hoped to find some insight not only into the long-term benefits of taking time away, but also how to incorporate some of those benefits into an otherwise busy lifestyle.

That time is now.

Finding time

One of the reasons it can be so hard to take time away is finding the time to set aside for it. We’re all busy, perhaps more so now than ever before. Competing priorities and the sheer volume of current world events can all conspire to make it tricky to find time for ourselves, let alone the multitude of tasks that demand our attention each day.

I was keenly aware of this when I started my time away, so I set out to take as much advantage of this newfound freedom as I could. I ran every morning at dawn, I went to martial arts classes twice a week, I created a proper sleeping schedule, and I spent time cleaning and organising my surroundings every day.

Unfortunately, some of these habits didn’t survive the transition to work. My wife and I still go for a walk every day, but I no longer find the energy to wake up early enough in the morning to go running. Likewise, I only get to martial arts once a week, and I certainly don’t sleep as well as I used to.

What I did realise, however, was that I didn’t have to do all these things. It was good to explore some options and to understand my preferences, but most of the things I wanted to focus on and improve in the long term, I was already working on every day. As such, it was less about finding the time to do more things, and more about finding the time to do the right things. And whether we have three months, three days, three hours, or even just three minutes to ourselves, the things of the most importance to us are those we can work on while we do them.

Finding focus

One of my core goals during my time away was to take better care of myself. I sorted through old belongings and made some hard decisions about what still felt like me and what needed to move on. I made an effort to get out and about and see more of the state where I was born. And, most importantly, I went to the doctor’s to get checked.

Many of these were one-off activities that I still benefit from today, but much like the item above, it is the process rather than the activities themselves that has lingered with me the most.

When we’re caught up in the whirlwind of our daily lives, it can be easy to shut out the messages our bodies send us. Are you a poor sleeper, someone who suffers from patchy skin, or who feels tired or unwell after certain types of activity or food? All of these can be related to stress, of course, but there might be another cause, one that has been with you for so long it no longer registers as out of the ordinary. Pay attention to the patterns and rhythms of your body, and you might find it comes down to getting pillows or mattresses more suited to you, finding a better skin routine, warming up properly before working out, or that certain types of foods just disagree with you. (And yep, all of these apply to me.)

Challenge what feels normal.

Finding inspiration

Reflection was always going to be a big part of my time away, and I’m glad I set aside some time for it. Meditating, keeping a diary, and searching through my feelings all helped me sort out a number of professional goals and perspectives. It helped me identify the things that mattered to me, and helped me prepare for my return to work.

The most inspiring revelation, however, came from one of the most unexpected sources: re-reading The Lord of the Rings.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a fan of science fiction and fantasy. Whether it was because I had to focus on my career or some abstract idea of ‘growing up’, however, somewhere along the way, I forgot all about that. Instead, I got to thinking that everything I did had to somehow ‘mean’ something or contribute to getting ahead, and in doing so, I missed one of the most important messages of all.

Not everything we do needs to ‘mean’ something. Some things are meant to be enjoyed for the sake of enjoyment itself, and that’s enough. They almost always connect back to some core part of our being, hold some special, untouchable meaning of their own, and the more we refuse to accept them, the more we drift astray.

Since re-reading that childhood favourite, I’ve been re-exploring some of the titles from my childhood and getting in touch with a part of myself that I had long thought cast aside. I wrote about some of that in my previous post, Nordock. And as I have, it’s been encouraging to see that rather than the rejection of these parts of my life I had always feared, I’ve found more supporters than ever, including my wife (who, much to my surprise, happens to be a hill dwarf barbarian).

Looking back on my time away, I am eternally grateful for this period and the reprieve it gave me. Likewise, for the encouragement and support of my wife to build up the courage to take this opportunity. In hindsight, there were some experiences I could only have gotten in doing so. However, it’s also encouraging to see that the most important benefits are those we can all tap into by taking a few simple steps in our daily lives.

[1] https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/10-things-do-sabbatical-andrew-dahms/

10 Things to Do on Sabbatical – One Year On

Nordock

In hindsight, it was a rather curious scene.

Sixty-three elves, dwarves, half-orcs and heaven knows what else, all standing around a misty clearing in front of a lone human. Some sat on a series of wooden couches mis-matched with the natural surroundings, others next to the edge of a precarious set of cliffs that dropped away into a bottomless abyss marking the edges of the space. As they talked amongst themselves, a beam of pure light appeared from the heavens as another figure arrived – the count now reaching sixty-four, an important number – and the figures all gathered round as the newcomer stepped forward and held out a staff.

How did we get here? 

The story begins almost two years before, some months before the start of my second year in university. I had just been the victim of an episode of traumatic violence – the kind that puts a rather sudden stop on one’s life – and while my physical wounds healed quickly, the psychological ones were still very raw and deep. One thing led to another, and after a series of similar and unfortunate shocks in the weeks that followed, my mind simply couldn’t take it anymore and I entered into a period of severe and prolonged PTSD.

It’s strange, looking back on it all now and seeing how bad it was in those first days. Even though there was no rational basis for it, I was so assured that someone was going to come inside my room and kill me at any given moment that I couldn’t sleep at all, and I spent most of my days hiding under the covers of my bed, reading books. Imagine the moment you’re about to stand up and give a speech in front of a huge crowd, except the feeling is much stronger, and it doesn’t stop – not for a second, not for a minute – for at least several months.

Over time, the sensation improved to the point where I could step outside my bed and my room, but the boundaries of my comfort were still confined to my home. I had read all the books on my shelf, played the few games that I’d owned, and was quickly running out of material to get through the day. There was no social media, no streaming or online content; our home only had a single internet connection, and downloads were metered to the point where it was expensive to do anything online.

I don’t quite remember what got me on to it, but one day, I heard about an online server running one of the role-playing games I enjoyed. One originally designed for single play, but modified to create an entire persistent world that anyone could join. Most importantly, run by our ISP so that it wouldn’t be metered. There would be other people – other players – and other rules and places, and I didn’t know what to expect.

It’s name – Nordock.

One evening, half out of curiosity, I created a character and joined.

I was immediately hooked.

Unlike the standard version of the game, you couldn’t press pause or save your position, you couldn’t re-load or restart. If you opened a menu, the action kept going in the background without you whether you wanted it to or not. If you logged out in the middle of a fight to avoid a crippling blow, quite often, logging back in a day or even several days later placed you right back where you were to get immediately swamped. And if you died, you had to pay a hefty price in terms of gold and experience, and you paid it, no questions asked.

In short, the stakes were very high.

It wasn’t just the stakes, however, but the highs as well. Magic items were rare, and certain ones became coveted because encountering one was almost as rare as winning the lottery. You could go for days, months, even years without finding one of these character-defining items, and gifting them to others or finding them in the field was a real achievement.

The server had its rough edges, too. After all, it was an ad-hoc world that someone had created well before the days of the MMORPG, and the rules were, to say the least, very casually put together. Even if you encountered one of these mythical items, for example, it was still surprisingly easy to lose. For example, monsters (and sometimes other characters) could disarm you, leaving your precious weapon lying there for anyone to take, or if the server reset while they lay there, they were gone forever. Other times, some of the less well-intentioned characters might simply steal them or gang up to kill you in the wilds, and the moment you stepped outside the protective gates of the portal, you were very much on your own.

Despite the frequent horrors and the glitches, we still teamed up and braved the wilds, exploring the farthest reaches (ah, the elemental planes…) and sharing knowledge about the risks we found there (someone accidentally spawned a super dragon on the road to Tobaro; stay very, very far away). We risked our lives for each other, we raced across the world to rescue fallen comrades and retrieve their items before a reset, and most important of all, sometimes, we just talked.

Every once and again, usually in the late hours of the night, someone would begin talking. Perhaps you’d just raised them from the dead, run into them in the wilds, or finished an encounter that was just a little too close for comfort. The beginning was always the same – a slight pause, then a question about something other than the events at hand – the real world – and it would all begin.

In the end, we were all there for reasons other than just the adventures. Some of us were insecure and just wanted to find acceptance. Some of us were troubled young men and women in the real world, and this was the one place where someone was willing to sit down with them and talk, one person to another. Others again to have a good time, to set up crazy tasks and bring us all together in ways we couldn’t have imagined on our own.

We were a group.

All good things, however, must one day come to an end. When the time came to graduate from university, I accepted an offer in Japan and had to leave the country. After two years of adventures, making friends and helping one another through some difficult times, an end date was in sight and I had to leave it all behind. Word spread quickly, and one afternoon, one of the other players asked me to be online at a specific time.

In the minutes before that moment, an array of thoughts ran through my mind. Of the adventures we had run, the friends I had made along the way and the difficult times we had helped one another through. We weren’t always there for one another, and we weren’t always perfect, but we’d tried. The help and acceptance we found so hard to find outside in the real world came naturally here, and even though the lands we ran through might not be real, our memories of them were.

I logged on, and waited in the gateway to the world where we always came to meet as one player after another slowly assembled and the count reached sixty four, the maximum capacity. That rag-tag band of mismatched would-be heroes in the clearing? They were my friends. And that human was me.

As we assembled there that final time and shared what words we could, I realised I no longer feared the outside world quite as much as I once did, that their help had helped me, too. Their camaraderie, their trust, and the kindness they showed me that night gave me the strength step back out into the world and face the adventures that awaited there as well.

So when they handed me that staff, did I cry?

You bet I did.

Know yourself

Several months before my thirtieth birthday, I lost my job.

I wish I could say that I didn’t see it coming, but the truth is, the signs were there for all to see. The company I was working for at the time was going through several rounds of widespread redundancies, and neither position nor performance mattered as team after team were let go.

Whatever the cause, it couldn’t have come at a worse time.

After spending several years building a new skill set, I had only just moved fields from one to another, and I didn’t have enough experience in my new one to get a job there, nor enough opportunities in my old, either. What I did have, however, was a dwindling bank account and an ongoing stream of bills to pay that set a strict timeline until I arrived at complete and utter bankruptcy.

It was terrifying.

For all the direness of the situation, however, one odd detail about my job searching at that time stuck out to me. The majority of positions I applied for were in the new field I had moved into, but each and every one of them terrified me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the work or even found them unappealing. On the contrary, the majority were well-paid, and far more stable and well respected than those in my previous career. 

What was going on, then?

As I searched for the right path forward, the answer to this question eluded me until one day, when a specific event brought it all into focus. On a whim, I decided to look at the careers page of a company I had been interested in for some time when I found an advertisement for an interesting role. One that combined the skills from my old career with the new, but one in which I had little direct experience. It was, however, the first time in months that I had seen an advertisement and felt calm.

I applied.

The very next day, a contact at my old company rang and offered me a position in a related department to my old one, and suddenly, I was in a bind.

On the one hand, I had an immediate opportunity in my new field that could give me the stability I wanted, kick start my career, and protect my bank account all at the same time. I would be employed at the time the clock ticked over on that big milestone age – an important psychological factor to me at the time – but I would also carry around that same, unplaceable feeling of dread. On the other, I could take a chance at an opportunity I had no guarantee of getting, but one that made me feel calm and relieved merely thinking about it.

The situation in this example is dramatic, but each and every one of us faces ones just like it every day. Big and small, our interests and possibilities are constantly cast up against raw need and the ebb and flow of the world, forcing us to choose.

When you were younger, it was often easier to align your interests with the things that spoke to you. Whether you liked a movie, a type of food, a place, or an activity, your mind and heart were connected as one. As you grew older, however, it became harder to connect certain activities to the outcomes you wanted, and your parents, friends, and families often urged you – from the best of intents – to take paths more guaranteed to provide a greater chance of success, whatever they might be.

And so you lost your connection.

You lost your voice.

But it’s not gone forever.

Deep down inside your heart, it remains. Your true self, the one that remembers all those things that captured your attention when you were young. Though it might grow wiser over the years, develop and evolve as your tastes and understanding do, the piece that is uniquely you can never be given away.

Most importantly, it knows the way.

Each time you make a decision that goes against that voice, a sense of wrongness grows inside your heart. You become more tired, stressed out, and frazzled, and if you keep on going, you’ll eventually reach the point where you’ve tricked yourself into believing this is all there is in life, that this is how it’s supposed to be for you.

But it’s not.

You don’t have to choose things that terrify you because that’s what everyone expects.

You don’t have to shy away from things and places because they don’t fit some golden path, and you don’t have to give up on something you love because you should have ‘grown out of it’ long ago.

What you do need to do is rediscover that voice, and remember who you are.

It will be quiet in the beginning, but that’s only because you haven’t spoken to it in some time.

Its ideas will sound strange, too, but that’s only because you haven’t listened to them for so long.

But it’s still there, I promise you.

And the more you nurture it, the more you turn your attention to its needs, the more that sense of wrongness will begin to disappear. You’ll start to wonder why you ever carried it around on your back to begin with and, more importantly, you’ll discover there are other people in the world who are just like you, who accept you as you are. 

In the end, I chose my heart, turning down the opportunity for the one less certain. I got it, and in the end, it turned out to be the perfect combination of new and old I was hoping for from the very beginning, one that’s opened me to other possibilities and avenues I hadn’t even considered because I had blocked them out from my wanting for so long.

Know yourself.

You’re perfect just the way you are

Even today, I can still remember the moment I realised I was different from all the other kids. I must have been about seven, and it was a beautiful spring afternoon during my third year in primary school.

My transgression?

Some kids found an interesting insect in the playground, and I called it a ‘bug’.

If you’re feeling confused, let me explain. I didn’t mean ‘bug’ as in the colloquial word for all insects. I meant ‘bug’ as in a specific order of insects otherwise known as Hemiptera.

You see, my parents were entomologists, and studying insects was part of their profession. Ever since I can remember, they taught me the correct, scientific names for all insects and their species, and I never thought anything about it. A wasp was a Hymenoptera, a stick insect was a phasmid, and that was that.

But not to everyone else.

As I lifted the bug out of the way and placed it in a nearby tree, I can still recall the other children coming around and looking on in interest. I didn’t understand the reason for their shocked and curious faces, but I soon found out.

The very next day, the few other boys I had been friends with refused to play with me anymore, and none of the other kids in my class even wanted to talk to me. I went the rest of the year without any friends, and I never knew why.

As much as I wish I could point to this one incident as some great turning point, it wasn’t the only one. My memories of primary school are of being lonely and having no one to talk to, of making friends only for them to up and leave abruptly one day, and of never fitting in. I tried playing sport, but the others kids never let me on their team. I tried to be nice, but that just gave them a reason to call me names. I tried to stay out of the way, but one afternoon, one of the kids took out their anger and frustration on my with their fists in one of the quieter spaces in the yard.

The teacher called a meeting, the kid was kicked out of school, and everyone knew the reason was me.

I hoped things might change in secondary school, but in the end, this was a trend that would follow me right the way through to graduation. Always, I would make some friends only to see them drift away, and nothing I ever did seemed to stick.

School was lonely.

School was harsh.

School was dark.

It’s only now, almost twenty years later and with a great deal more experience, that I’ve begun to see why. True, many of the kids were mean – some were downright bastards – and I was right to never make friends with them. Most of the time, however, I realise now that I was so focused on their actions that I never thought about my own.

In case it’s not clear, I’ll say this part straight up – you are not responsible for the horrible things others do to you, or the flaws that made them the way they are. You are just as deserving of love and attention as everyone else, and you are perfect the way you are right now. There are all kinds of people in the world, many of whom are different to you. But some – a small, select group – are just like you, you know. You are not alone, but you cannot find these people unless you know who you are.

When you were young, the differences between you and everyone else weren’t as easy to see. You did the same kind of things in the same kind of place, and your teachers and parents wanted you to fit in. They wanted you to be all right, to avoid hardships by being the same. But you weren’t, whether you wanted to be or not. You were different, you were new. Not something wrong, but something that is valuable on its own, something that not everyone else could or had to be.

Look inwards, examine those aspects of yourself that have become so normal to you that you take them for granted.

What do you like, and what do you like about what you like?

Where do people who like that kind of thing go, what do they do and say and enjoy?

How can you refine your message so you can be more comfortable around those like yourself and help others less in the know approach those same subjects?

What can you do to be you?

You don’t have to be lonely.

You don’t have to be scared.

Your people and your place are out there, but you can only find them once you know who they are.

I’m writing a book

It’s been a long time coming, but I am both excited and decently terrified share a passion project of mine that I’ve been working on in the background for quite some time.

I’m writing a book.

Not just one of them, either, but five in a series.

And not just writing them – they’re already done.

For the past two-and-a-half years, I’ve used every spare moment I can find to chip away at an immense story that’s been stuck in my mind since I was a teenager. I’ve been writing in the early mornings before work, during lunch times and on the train, writing in the evenings before meetings, and writing on the weekends and public holidays. There’ve been no breaks or reprieves at all throughout this time, but somehow, I’ve managed to get through it all at a pace of almost one new book every six months. At an average of twenty-four thousand new words a month, that’s a total of seven hundred and twenty thousand words, but finally, it’s done.

Those who’ve known me throughout this time might be surprised to hear that I’ve been working on something of this scale. After all, apart from a random comment here or there, I’ve been pretty tight-lipped about what’s been taking up so much of my time. It’s not the only thing I’ve had to deal with, either, this same period coming with a number of disruptive personal life events and at least one traumatic experience whose fallout I’m still coping with in many ways.

Even though it’s been a struggle to find the time and energy to reach this point, one of the reasons I’ve been able to stick with it is because of how personal it is. It’s a story that helped me through some darker days during my youth, that helped me grow and examine a great number of my own feelings, and most of all, it’s a story that represents a key philosophical concept that defines my outlook on life.

In essence, it’s a piece of epic science fiction; one that represents a fresh take on a familiar concept –


It’s the year 1345 Modern Time, and the world is still reeling in the aftermath of a cataclysmic conflict that came within an inch of ending life as we know it. All records and knowledge of the times before then are lost, the technological achievements of the Age of Wonders forgotten, and nobody alive today now knows how it all began or what came before it all began. Now stuck in a centuries-old stalemate against the ever-evolving enemy forces of Factory Prime, the remaining peoples of the world cower above a defensive perimeter about the equator known as the Line. The only thing that stands between their destruction and the enemy hordes that arrive to challenge them twice a year is the constant sacrifice of the men and women in the Reactionary Forces of Central, commonly known as the Souldiers.

When her childhood friend goes missing in the wild lands beyond the Line under mysterious circumstances, young Vivian must make the decision to leave the town of her childhood forever if she wants to find out what really happened. To do so, she’ll need to cast aside everything she knows to be true, summon all the courage she can muster, and face the Line where no step forward can be won without sacrifice. Along the way, she’ll find more than she bargained for and, if she can avoid falling victim herself, come to learn the truth about the world and how it all came to be.


There’s a decent mix of action, mystery, and cruel choices, but the thread that ties it all together is an incredibly human story that touches on a number of themes that are very close to me. It’s not just a chance to set up some epic action sequences – although there are plenty of those as well – but to examine the things I find most important, such as finding your voice, standing up for yourself, and finding your place in the world. If you’re a science fiction fan, an introvert, or someone who just enjoys a good read, I’m confident there’ll be something in there for you.

Even though I’ve completed a rough draft, one of the interesting things about writing an entire series rather than one volume at a time is how aware it makes you of your earlier mistakes. There’s also a great deal more to completing a novel than just the writing, so I’m planning on using the next six months to touch everything up and get the first instalment ready. In the meantime, I’ll be using this space to not only provide updates on progress and a few teasers, but to talk a little about my own background and the themes and ideas that drew me to this story to begin with as well.

It’s an exciting prospect, finally getting to share some of these things with you all, but it’s also a terrifying one, too. After all this time lurking inside my head and taking up precious mental real estate, I’m aware there’s a real chance it might all just fizzle and amount to nothing. Setting up this space and navigating the currents of social media is another scary prospect for someone who isn’t used to self promotion, and I’ll be sharing a number of personal episodes that I’ve never spoken about openly before in support of my message.

Even knowing all that, it’s still something that I want to do, that I have to do, and whatever the outcome, I hope you can share this journey with me as we learn more about it together.