Know Why

When I left law practice to become a vocational musician, one of the first things I did was write a mission statement. That sort of thing was in vogue at the time, mostly as a business practice, but it helped me to answer a worthwhile question: “why do I think I should leave my present career to write songs and tell stories? What is my goal in doing so?” Given that there were already so many talented musicians in the world, most hoping that someone would listen to their songs, it seemed appropriate to ask whether anyone, other than myself, might benefit from the music I aimed to compose.

That exercise and the resulting affirmation that flowed from it have proven invaluable to me over the years. If I remained true to it, I was fairly certain I’d never be famous. I might not even be able to make a living as a musician. But it boxed me in, in a good way, and I’ve tried to stay in my lane ever since.

While I’ve worked on Theo of Golden, my mission statement has been prominent in my thoughts. After all, writing songs (story songs, no less) and writing fiction are birds of a feather. What I have hoped over the years to accomplish with music, I also hope for long-form fiction.

And when my enthusiasm has waned (almost daily!) during the multiple drafts and edits of the book, it has been helpful to know why I feel compelled to tell this story. 

So, fellow first-time writer, before putting pen to paper, maybe it would be a good idea to complete the following sentence. 

“I am going to write this book because . . .”

The possibilities are many. Here are a few:

- There is a story I simply have to put down on paper;

- I want to advocate for a view of reality or a social cause;

- I want to make money;

- It feels important;

- I can’t not write it;

- I’m bored and this might fill a void;

- The story serves “the life of the world”;

- I want to leave something behind for my family;

- I like the challenge and think it would be enjoyable;

- I want to be famous;

- Because words on paper are easier to deal with than people;

- (Fill in the blank).

Of course, one can write a book (or do anything else in life for that matter) without giving much thought to the reasons why. I am certain there are authors who have been very successful without ever articulating a ‘mission’ or ultimate aim for their work. But personally, I have found it helpful, immensely so, to have a guiding principle that has kept me committed, kept me focused, and kept me convinced that words and stories have the power to challenge, change, and inspire us.

I recall something I read by Peter Kreeft years ago. My recollection is a paraphrase but the idea is essentially this; small things we do today have the potential to affect a life 3000 miles away and 300 years in the future. If that be true — and in the realm of cause and effect the idea is certainly believable —the writing of a book has possibilities far beyond our foreseeability. Who knows where, or with whom, a book, even a mere made-up story, might bear fruit someday.

So why, specifically, Theo of Golden?

When the idea for the story came to me several years ago, anger was running unusually thick through our historical moment. It still does and, in my humble opinion, always has.

Theo of Golden, at its core, is a book about kindness — credible, achievable, winsome kindness; kindness done for the right reason, in the right way, with the right objective. I hope the story is well-written and that it has a good flow and engaging character development. But my deeper hope — the “why” — is that it will remind anyone who reads it, that kindness — “a language the blind can see and the deaf can hear” — is worth the try, and full of reward.

Be brave.

Know why.

(I do sometimes wonder if that guy ever got his million dollars?)