Books, music, and metaphors
The Last Book
Self-published under
KPNY Self-Publishing and Prints
This is the first ever novel I wrote, and the idea started as a chaotic thought on our way home from a convention. The raindrops sitting outside the window, the silence inside the car, the people I observed outside—all were factors in penning what seemed to be a promising narrative of romance, a metafiction that emerged as a result of ennui and desperation only to be named as a self-proclaimed author, and a manuscript that ever since has sat in my computer for years. The inspiration for the characters in this story came from the people in our congregation, whom I was too quick to name and paint in the scorching summer of 2016. A monotonous story that was a product of heartbreak, melancholy, and hope drew its inspiration from a retrospection of my accounts as a hopeless romantic. That is, when the time and opportunity presented themselves, I scribbled the first few words in my now-dusted notebook. And words turned to phrases; phrases turned to paragraphs; and paragraphs turned to chapters. Staying up for three to four hours every night in the summer of 16 gave me a time of rest from the already exhausting world. The chaos in my mind turned into somewhat of a hopeful story of people looking for healing and a haven. I finished scribbling the words in my notebook until the very last words in the novel, when I decided to let my inner circle read my thoughts and print them. I might have faced aplenty of frustrations from my insecure being and rejections from publishers, but I still have hopes of bringing my passion for writing to the shelves of book stores. I am still proud of running every ink of my pen into paper and turning it into a book. This very first novel of mine narrates the story of two people, joined by their parallel backgrounds and heartbreaks, and their fateful encounter that changed their lives forever.