This is my third time trying to write this post.
I guess I’m not that good with words. They kind of get in my way. Sometimes it takes me six whole books to say what I mean. I’ve said it now. I said it in the Dronefall Series.
It took me about eight years and over 590,000 words to get here. The Dronefall Series has matured into a nuanced narrative about humanity in a world where everything can be reduced to data. It’s the complex, puzzle-like story of a woman searching for—and questioning the true importance of—her own identity while exposing the sinister workings of the machine reality has become. But under all that sci-fi philosophy and intricacy is a primal scream.
Because I can’t be the only one seeing this.
The Scream
Dronefall One was the ninth book I wrote, but it was the first I wrote believing I had been given something people really needed to hear. I’ve always been quiet. I rarely say more than a sentence or two at a time out loud. Back when I was on Instagram, I struggled to find anything to say in the captions. God didn’t create me to dominate conversations or deliver TED Talks on the regular. But there was something about this story. Someone out there needed to hear it. Maybe even a lot of people.
But the response to Dronefall was quiet. Even quieter for the second book, and the third. By the time the fourth dropped, no one was there to catch it. It’s hard to find readers as an independently-publishing author. The world is insanely loud. It gets louder every day. We’re drowning in other people’s voices, opinions, frustrations, hatred, sadness. The internet drops it all in our hands every day. No wonder people are too overwhelmed to read.
The question arises all the time for me—do they really need my noise, too? Maybe God didn’t really give me this story. Maybe it’s all my imagination. Maybe it’s best to keep quiet.
Sometimes I think like that for a few days. But usually, I can sleep it off. The lights come back on, and I’m at it again. Because I know the time will come. God’s not trying to trick me. I’ve spent most of my adult life working on this, because I believed in it. There was always something that kept me pressing on when it felt pointless.
Every time it started to slip, I would wake up and see the world around me—all the people dragging themselves through life, missing the clues. God was speaking to them, too. But so many people—even those who are listening—can’t hear Him.
Why would they hear me?
Audience of One
The question of audience haunts every artist throughout their career. Who am I doing this for? Do they hear it? Do they understand it? Do they like it? Or, sometimes the dreaded, “do they even exist?”
Of course, Christian creators all know we’re creating for God first. Ultimately, we just want to make something He loves, hears, and understands. I get that. I know that’s what’s most important. If no one else liked it besides God and my mom, it would still be a worthy way to spend eight years. (By the way, I DO NOT discount my mom’s appreciation for the stuff I make. So many people out there are making things their moms don’t approve of at all. I’m happy to say I’ve got a lot of people beat in that case.) Even in the solitude between me and God, I know there’s some value in my work.
But Dronefall, in its very essence, is designed to spill out into the world at large. It’s supposed to help people, and change the way they see. It’s meant to be explored and discovered by minds that will relish the surprise, the uniqueness, and the new perspective it offers. Some art serves its full purpose simply rising like incense—but Dronefall isn’t like that. It needs to spread its wings and travel, whisper in the ears of discouraged people, and carry light to places no one has seen yet. In a way, Dronefall is less like a trailing plume of incense and more like something alive.
I guess I’m saying some art exists in its entirety as an expression, while other projects have a life of their own.
And while it’s true that God is always the ultimate audience, He’s also the artist. He worked through and alongside the artist to make something He had a plan for. And even now, as I finish the series quietly with very little external fanfare, I know the plan is in motion.
Just the Beginning
Deep down, I really do. Yet, though I can write a post like this, most of the time, I’m discouraged by my slow progress. I think this is something everybody feels in some area of their life. We might trust God entirely with the plan, but the details and the nitty-gritty reality of actually living it out is hard.
Timing is always the hardest. Especially when it’s something you’ve actively worked on every day for years. I think about Dronefall all the time. I’m always wrestling with the next stage of the process—writing, editing, proofreading, formatting, cover design, production, promotion. A lot of mornings, I’m already thinking about it before I’m out of bed—sometimes before my eyes are open. I must think about it in my sleep, sometimes.
Maybe I’ll never make a true income off my writing, but I’ll never describe it as a hobby. Apparently, this is my life. I’m not even sure how it happened.
And even though I’ve finished writing the manuscripts for all 6 books of the Dronefall Series, I have no sense of completion. That can only mean it’s not over yet. The series has just been born. Now, its life begins.
I want to share something with the world. I know it will reach the people who are meant to see it someday. I’m not sure how. Right now, I’m can’t see the way. It looks impossible.
But here you are. You read to the end of this post in spite of all the noise. Even if you never read Dronefall, I’m glad you stopped for a minute to listen to my story. God brought you here for a reason. Maybe, somehow, this brief encounter with another of His children’s passions will be a bright point on your own journey.
Because at the end of the day, we are all living the same story. One that’s way too big to be seen from the ground.