I Published a Book With No Ending

I may rewrite it, with a hundred more chapters

Once upon a time, way back in 2011, I wrote and self-published my first (and only) book. It wasn’t a best seller but the reviews are five stars out of five, so for those the book resonated with, it was a hit.

It’s called Chronicles of a Shipwreck in Jamaica and the synopsis on the publisher page goes like this:

“How a Canadian travel blogger recklessly abandoned her cushy life in Canada and moved to Jamaica, in ways that she would never recommend to anyone. A humorous journal that details the build up to a move that was destined to happen, and accounts of the aftermath of her decision.”

Warning: DO NOT click the link and buy the book.

Clearly, I was the actual shipwreck because the writing is garbage. And apparently, all the 5-star reviewers don’t know shitty writing when they see it.

I won’t lie, I cringed when I found the Word document of the book last night and began reading through it. A little piece of me wanted to hug the girl who wrote it and console her.

“There, there. Everything is going to be alright. They should have been honest from the start and told you not to write it.”

Although the story behind it was my amazing life, the writing really does suck. Re-reading it was like watching those American Idol auditions, where the contestant is SO bad that you have to wonder why their family and friends allowed them to humiliate themselves in front of an audience.

I wrote that little ebook two years into my travel blogging journey. Right now, in current times, that blog ended up existing for ten years and is now retired. I attempted living and doing business in Jamaica twice more since writing it.

I’m so much wiser now, compared to that rookie who wrote those stories.

Mostly, I forget that I even published the book but I’m reminded by email every once in a blue moon, when someone new makes a purchase. Those poor suckers.

Not only have I pretty much forgotten about the book, I’ve also neglected it. A lot has changed in the technical publishing world over the last eight years and I should pay better attention to keeping it up to date. Like, I could at least update the book cover because it doesn’t even meet the publishing specs anymore.

But I stopped caring because it’s such a distant memory. There was no more to write.

The book ended with a cryptic cliffhanger which was never fully addressed. It’s kind of like when my son was little and used to read those Goosebumps ‘choose your own ending’ chapter books.

I could never write the ending because the journey was still happening, which is why I feel like now could be the perfect opportunity for a revival and a republish. The journey is now complete.

I think it may be time to write the super extended, elaborated, final version of that book.

Why? For a few reasons:

• Because it’s not just about traveling around Jamaica. It’s about the transformation of my life in the process, complete with the good, the bad and the seriously ugly.
• Because the evolution of myself and my life since those days, is a novel in itself. I wouldn’t be here if I’d never been there.
• I am now of sound mind and heart, and can write about my past objectively. It’s funny what we have to go through to end up where we are.

Having spent one-third of my entire life — yes, you heard me — one-actual-third — focused on discovering and developing one single thing, it had become the longest committed relationship I’d ever been in, aside from parenthood.

What I would love to do is work directly from the first book, which was more or less written in short, bite-sized pieces according to specific experiences. I’d like to rework it, filling in all the blanks that never got filled the first time around, and then extend it with the bulk of the last eight years becoming the focal point.

I find it very difficult to sit down and write something as monumental as a book because first of all, real life is happening at the same time. I need to show up for work and earn a paycheck (unless Medium would like to give me an advance for the next 4 years).

I’d rather be independently wealthy and sit in a beach hut, pounding out novels like they do in movies.

Second, it takes so much time putting experiences in the proper order so they make sense for the reader. And third, it is sometimes painful rehashing the past, especially if the past didn’t work in your favor most of the time.

I have no timeline for this lofty goal, although judging from the first time I wrote the book, I think it could take me the rest of my life.

But in reality, what else am I really doing right now? I’m writing anyway.

If I end up meeting the goal, you’ll know because I’ll be trying to sell you the book.

Thanks for reading this entry in my Journal of Firsts:

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