"The first draft of anything is shit." - Ernest Hemingway
Whether it’s a story, a song, a sketch, or a business plan, the first version of anything is always imperfect.
If you think perfection can be achieved on the first try, you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.
Perfection is born from failure, shaped by revision, and polished through relentless repetition.
It is never a single, flawless stroke.
For example, J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter was rejected by twelve different publishers before it was even given a chance.
Yet, today it is a household name.
Gazing at my reflection in the train’s window, I smiled fondly, carefully caressing the phone in my hands like a newborn.
After countless years of correction, revision, and failure, my debut novel was set to be released to the masses.
It all started in high school, when my English teacher inspired me to write a novel.
From there, I had taken off, spending every waking moment of my free time coming up with ideas and aimlessly writing just for the fun of it.
Writing became my escape, transporting me away from the stressful world of high-school grades and college applications.
When my fingers graced the keyboard, all my academic worries faded away, for just a moment.
And by the time of my graduation, I had done it.
A completed draft of my novel.
I knew it suffered from typical newbie mistakes, but I was ecstatic.
Unfortunately, reality was unaccepting.
Despite my strong grades, my dream of attending a top liberal arts college to pursue writing was crushed by my lack of extracurricular activities.
I had spent all my free time writing a novel that I couldn’t even show to colleges, while my classmates made non-profits and won national competitions.
Thus, I was lugged off to some mid-tier college, where my already disappointed parents forced me to major in computer science in hopes of a high-paying job.
They paid for my tuition, housing, and meals, so I couldn’t disagree.
Anyway, I couldn’t imagine telling anyone, let alone my parents, that I wanted to become a fantasy writer.
Perhaps if I had written non-fiction stories, they might have accepted me, but my novel was set in a magic-centered world where characters could fly.
So, I was stuck doing something I didn’t want to do in a place I didn’t want to be.
Yet, despite everything, writing was there for me.
In between classes, instead of going out or getting a part-time job, I stayed alone in my room, tirelessly clicking away on my crumb-filled RGB keyboard.
And that’s how I got to today, the summer of my junior year of college.
After countless cold emails to publishing companies, one finally accepted my novel.
This was my final chance.
If this failed, I would accept reality and begin the grueling job search, hoping to find a place before graduation.
But...more excitingly, if the novel succeeded, I would drop out of college and continue this book with a sequel.
Switching through every social media platform possible, I frantically typed out my novel’s name and clicked the refresh button, waiting for any reviews.
Suddenly looking up from my phone, I admired the beautiful ocean-blue lake through the window as the train entered a bridge.
My future was about to be made.
A sharp, metallic scream ripped through the carriage, and in the next instant, the train jerked violently to the left, the floor tilting under my feet.
My body slammed sideways as gravity took effect, and my phone shot from my grip, spinning through the air and smashing right through my reflection in the window.
Before I could even process what was happening, my skull slammed into a cold metal pole.
Pain exploded through my body, and the world blurred into a dizzy, nauseating swirl.
Dazed and nauseous, I could only watch in horror as people above me broke through the train window, plummeting down nearly 2 kilometers into the lake.
Blood leaked from my forehead, cascading down my face and onto the usual clean subway floor, as my motionless body involuntarily rolled left, towards the broken windows.
Wind rushed against my face as the train tipped more and more, waking me up for a moment.
My right hand immediatly surged forward, grasping the blood-covered metal pole that had knocked me over.
With the train, now at a 90-degree angle, I desperately hung onto the pole, not daring to look down at the massive lake, waiting to devour me, through the broken window.
But it wasn’t enough.
As I looked upward, the massive body of another passenger consumed my vision, and before I knew it, he fell right atop the pole, smashing my fingers.
My right hand instantly came free, and my body free-fell downward toward the lake. Fresh chapters posted on NoveI(F)ire.net
In the end, I never even got to see if my book was a success or not.
Maybe...it’s a good thing
If it failed, I’m not even sure what I would have done.
Time slowed as I gazed down at the dazzling blue abyss below me, sparkling under the sun’s shine.
It was a bright summer day.
Wind blasted through my entire body as a bright-blue sky stretched above the plains of lush grass surrounding the lake.
But my mind was somewhere else
I should have added a skydiving scene to my book!
Chuckling at the thought, as my vision turned pitch-black, I bit my lip.
I wanted to see my book, a success or a failure.
I wanted to see it so bad.
All I had ever wanted for the past five years was to see it on a shelf.
On the day it releases, I die?
My brain couldn’t believe it.
I would have pinched myself to try and see if this were a dream, but my right hand was in shambles, limply lying by my side.
As if mocking me, a familiar phone case came into view below me, the screen tilted just down enough that I couldn’t see it.
Those were the last words I muttered before my mind went blank.