Notes from author's brain

The Story That Took Four Years to Tell

worked on this book for four years.

Four years of doubt.
Four years of rewriting the same pages.
Four years of feeling that it wasn’t good enough.

There were moments when I wanted to give up completely.
Moments when the story felt broken, when the words refused to align, when nothing sounded right. I rewrote scenes, deleted chapters, rebuilt characters and still felt dissatisfied. Again and again.

For a long time, I believed that if it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t worth finishing.

But somewhere along the way, after years of frustration, something changed.

I realized the story didn’t need to be flawless.
It needed to be honest.

One day, I read the manuscript not as its author, but as a reader. And for the first time, I didn’t feel the urge to fix it. I felt something else, quiet connection. Recognition. Even enjoyment.

This book is not perfect.
But it is real.

And it is a story I am finally ready to read and to share.