My Writing Bucket List

Story time.

I started taking my writing seriously in the mid-90’s. I was 17, in my second year of college, and a friend of mine and a teacher both encouraged me by stating how much they liked my work. Before that, writing was just a way that an awkward kid with a stress-related stutter—who was in WAY over his head—could communicate effectively with the world. After that first taste of positive reinforcement, I believed that I would certainly use my writing as once of the many ways to attain fame and fortune, probably by my mid-20’s at the latest.

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Suffice it to say, it didn’t work out that way. I self-published my first novel in 2005, before self-publishing was cool, and instead of the fame, fortune, and Wednesday lunches with Oprah that I’d envisioned, I returned to the reality of bulls, debt, and a nine-to-five. I realized then that I had no goals, no plan, and no clue what I was doing; I only had a vague idea of what the end of the road looked like. I had no real concept of the steps between pouring your guts out onto a page and having your name on a bestsellers list. Quite frankly, I still don’t.

By 2014, when I released my second novel, I had done enough research that I developed some goals and benchmarks, as well as steps to achieve them. I was in a better position to do things like hire an editor. I wanted to see my book in stores, do a reading, and sign some stuff. I wanted to win a contest. I did most of those things, and I’m glad I did.

Now that I’m in my 40’s, the list of stuff I want to accomplish in my writing career has changed. As I’ve gotten older, the goals are more realistic and attainable. They’re still things that anyone who wants to do this for money would want to do (at least, everyone that I’ve talked to).

1. Publish traditionally. Don’t misunderstand me; there is nothing wrong with being independently published. It’s been close to two decades now that it’s been a viable option, and there are many success stories about authors doing very well for themselves. As for my experience, it’s been the best thing for me as I’m getting a valuable hands-on education in the finer points of writing, publishing, and running a small business—all without having to pay tuition or sit in class (impractical for me at this stage in my life). I’m learning marketing and promotion, how to use social media, even small things like how to speak in front of people. It’s a growing list of valuable skills, and while most of it doesn’t quite come naturally, I’m better at it now than I was as an awkward kid with a stutter. That said, publishing yourself, promoting yourself, getting your name out there, all of those can be expensive and time-consuming endeavors, and there’s a certain validation that comes with someone investing effort and resources on your behalf. That’s a validation I have yet to feel, and I want to.

2. Write a bestseller. I like to think that anyone who aspires to make a career out of something they love aims to become great at it. An architect wants to see their design come to life as an integral part of a city. A massage therapist wants word of their talents to spread to more diverse clientele. An artist wants their own wing in a museum, and a singer wants to have their song top Billboard’s top 100. I want to see my name on a bestseller list. I’m not picky; Amazon, Kobo, Nook, New York Times, or an email in Buford, Wyoming (population: 1)—any list will do. I want something I wrote to be so well done, that people who have no direct connection to me would acquire and enjoy it.

3. Quit my job. Here’s a disclaimer, in case one of my managers stumbles across this: I love my job. I love sleep medicine. I love helping people. I’m the weirdo that enjoys the peace of working graveyard shifts, the pride of running a clean sleep study, and the joy of doing a perfect CPAP titration. I’ve been doing this for 15 years and it has changed my life for the better in more ways than I can count. With that out in the open, I don’t want to do this forever. In my fantasies as a teenager, I always saw myself as a writer: first as a columnist who followed the New York Yankees around, later as a novelist. And while my original ideas of what that looked like were massively unrealistic back then, I feel it’s entirely possible to have writing be my primary method of employment by my late 40’s. Don’t get me wrong—being a sleep tech at that point wouldn’t constitute failure. I make a pretty decent living and I’m afforded a ton of free time. Hell, I even plan to maintain my credentials for as long as I’m able. But being a full-time, professional writer, complete with the ability to reliably pay my bills on time wouldn’t suck.

4. See someone in the wild reading something I wrote. Maybe this is part of wanting to write a bestseller, but come on. Picture it: you’re at a train station, bus depot, or an airport, minding your own business, and when you look up and see someone reading your book. Or you’re at a coffee shop somewhere, and see someone sip their tea, break off a piece of lemon loaf, and turn the page of this work you put months of your life and a piece of your soul into. You get a quick look at that person’s face to make sure it’s not Joe, the kid you were cool with in high school that you now know only through Facebook. And when it turns out to be a random stranger, how do you stifle the joyous shout that makes you look crazy? How amazing would that feeling be? Even if they never recognized you as the author, would that feeling ever get old? The closest analog I can think of is a singer hearing themselves on the radio for the first time.

Of course, I realize that most of the stuff on this list is about massaging my ego in some form or another. I also recognize that exactly zero items on this list are easy to accomplish. It requires hard work, and even then there’s a ton of it I can’t control. But so what? If you’re going to dream, dream big. No one wants their bucket list to be easily completed. That’s part of the point. And let’s say I do accomplish everything on this list. Will I stop? Hell, no! I love telling stories, and I’ll do that as long as I live.

Finishing the bucket list only means I need to find a new bucket.