A Slow Clap in the Auditorium

There are days when it feels like I’m standing on a dimly lit stage, alone in a vast auditorium, and the only sound is the slow, solitary clap of my own hands echoing in the emptiness. It’s not the roaring applause we dream of, the standing ovation that validates years of work. No, it’s quieter, humbler—a sound that could easily be lost in the void.

But it’s enough.

Because I asked for this.

This is my command performance, not for the present audience, but for a future one. For the readers who will one day pick up my books and escape into the worlds I’ve built, finding joy, solace, and adventure. For the next generation of storytellers who might read my words and think, “I could do this too.” And, maybe most of all, for me—the younger me who dared to dream of being here.

A World in Decline, A Personal Mission

Lately, the weight of the world has felt especially heavy. Fascism is rising in America, the country I once swore to defend when I joined the military. Everything I believed in—the ideals of democracy, freedom, equality—feels like it’s slipping through our fingers, sold off by oligarchs who see the world as nothing more than a boardroom game. It’s easy to feel defeated, to think, What’s the point of writing stories when the world is burning?

But here’s the thing: I’m still here.

I’ve faced hard truths before. I’ve been to places and seen things that broke me down and forced me to rebuild from the ashes. And every time, I’ve risen again—not because it was easy, but because my intuition told me I had to keep going. That there was something waiting for me on the other side of the struggle.

And now, my stories are part of that fight.

Cheering Myself On

Writing isn’t just about the words on the page; it’s about believing in yourself when no one else does. It’s about sitting down at the keyboard when the world feels too big and you feel too small. It’s about telling yourself, This matters. I matter.

Some days, that belief is the only thing keeping me going. I remind myself of the dream that’s carried me this far—the dream of creating stories that inspire hope, resistance, and resilience in the face of impossible odds.

When no one else is there to cheer for me, I clap for myself.

And you know what? That slow clap is enough. Because it means I’m still in the game. It means I haven’t given up.

Hope as Resistance

Stories matter, especially now. They remind us of what’s possible, even when the world feels bleak. They’re a way of saying, “We were here. We fought. We dreamed.”

In Merchant of Vision and the books to come, I’ve poured my hope, my anger, and my determination into every page. I’ve written characters who rise above their circumstances, who fight for something greater than themselves, who refuse to let the darkness win.

Because that’s what I believe in, even now: that the fight is worth it. That the slow clap in the empty auditorium isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning.

For You, For Me, For the Future

So I’m here, writing stories, cheering myself on, and trusting that someday, the audience will show up. Maybe it’s not the world I thought I’d be writing for, but it’s the one I have.

If you’re reading this, you’re part of that audience. And for that, I’m grateful.

This is my command performance, and I’m giving it everything I’ve got. Not just because I have to, but because I want to.

Thank you for being here. Let’s keep clapping for each other—and for the future we’re all working toward.

#PersonalBlog #AuthorLife #HopeInDarkTimes #KeepWriting #MerchantOfVision