Ten years. A decade of my life has been wrapped up in this one story—“Merchant of Vision.” It began in November 2014, during NaNoWriMo, with nothing more than an inkling, a spark, the start of something that felt like it could one day be grand. It was the story of Nisa Jax, Esper Scout, the daughter of a Billionaire that rejected the money to become a frontier scout.

I never imagined that spark would lead me on such a long, winding journey. The joy of writing is always there, an ember that keeps burning even when the flame dims, but it’s also a journey that has come with great strain, sacrifices, and challenges that have sometimes felt almost too much to bear.

The writing itself has been exhilarating—the feeling of building a universe, character by character, system by system, conflict by conflict. Kars Vandor became the lead character, and his journey through the stars mirrors my own, in a way. He’s chasing something bigger than himself, just as I’ve been pursuing this dream of being a published author, imagining these vast empires, and hoping I’d one day be able to share them with others. There is something magical about world-building, creating characters and watching them grow, putting them through hardships and learning alongside them—it’s a joy that has kept me coming back, draft after draft, year after year.

But it hasn’t always been joyful. There’s an emotional toll that comes with spending a decade on one project. I had other projects in the works, but this was the main focus.  There have been countless moments of doubt when I wondered if I’d ever finish. The excitement of those early days, when I could easily churn out 2,000 words in a single session, gave way to the weight of editing, rewriting, and refining. Life got in the way, as it always does. I had responsibilities to my family, mainly driving kids to school and my wife to her work, hours per day as we live outside the city. At times it felt like there simply weren’t enough hours in the day to sit down and write. Usually I would end up starting to write at 10 PM, and then write until 2 am, get 4 hours of sleep and then do a new day, all over again.

My family has been both my greatest source of support and the ones who’ve had to endure the strain of this reinventing-myself-as-a-writer gig, and my many projects, that always progressed at a snail's pace. I’ve stolen hours from them, spent late nights at my desk when I could have been spending time with them, sacrificed weekends for word counts and rewrites. It’s a balance I’m still not sure I’ve gotten right—the guilt of choosing to write instead of being present has weighed heavily on me, and yet I know I could never have given up on this dream.

The sacrifices writers make are often unseen, unacknowledged. Writing can be such a lonely pursuit. There were times when I felt I was screaming into the void, unsure if anyone would ever read these words, if Kars Vandor would mean anything to anyone other than myself. There were moments when the isolation got too much, when I questioned why I was putting myself and my family through this. The endless rewrites, the stories that ended up in the trash bin, the nagging voice in my head that told me I’d never finish—they all felt like weights dragging me down.

But I kept going. Because despite everything, there is hope. There is hope in the idea that one day, this story would be finished. One day, Kars Vandor’s journey would be complete, and someone out there would read it and maybe feel something—a spark of excitement, a glimmer of recognition, the thrill of adventure. Writing has always been an act of hope for me, and the dream of being able to share this story, to have someone connect with the words I’ve put down on the page, has been enough to keep me going, even in the hardest moments.

Now, with the release of my debut full-length space opera novel just around the corner, I feel both excitement and fear. The journey isn’t over, not really—this is just one step in a larger path. But to finally be able to share Kars’ story, to let readers into the universe I’ve spent a decade building, feels like an achievement in itself. It’s a dream come true, one that has come with more sacrifices than I can count, but one that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

To those who have been on this journey with me—thank you. To other writers out there, struggling, questioning, doubting—I see you. I know how hard it is. The sacrifices we make often go unnoticed, the hours spent at a desk, the sleepless nights spent wrestling with plotlines and characters. It’s easy to feel like you’re doing it all for nothing, like no one will ever care. But we keep going, because writing is hope. Writing is creation, and there’s beauty in the act of making something, even if it’s just for ourselves. Keep going. Your story matters.

And to my family—thank you for letting me chase this dream. Thank you for your patience, for enduring the strain, for letting me steal away the hours I needed to bring this story to life. This achievement is as much yours as it is mine. The sacrifices have been many, but I hope that seeing this book come to life, seeing the dream realized, has made it worth it.