Having writing skills was paramount to my career. I wrote marketing and business proposals, business charters, annual business plans, and colorful annual reports. I attended classes on storytelling – a must for professionals whose success depends upon influencing others. I had a knack for this kind of work. It was fun and it carved out a nice career niche. I was no stranger to writing. So why, then, was authoring a book so confounding? So stumping?

I can understand the wisdom of “just writing,” but I needed the discipline of a roadmap. “Just writing” didn’t work for me. With dogged tenacity and a lot of encouragement, I punched through my writer’s block and assembled enough stories to fill a 300-page book. A year later it was finished. Reading the first draft was painful. The stories were flat, disjointed, disconnected, pointless, without continuity. My manuscript was nowhere near block-buster material.

I had never considered some of the most important aspects of writing – where does this go? What’s the point of the story? Shouldn’t I have a destination, a roadmap? Isn’t the story supposed to have a conflict? How about a plot? For whom am I writing this? What’s my message? Long Time No Sea was devoid of addressing such questions.

Six years and twenty-two complete rewrites later, my friend and support coach, Tanya, lost her patience. “Stop! Enough! Publish it!”

Six years and twenty-two complete rewrites later, my friend and support coach, Tanya, lost her patience. “Stop! Enough! Publish it!”

Long Time No Sea hit the printing presses. Over the next fifteen years, an impressive 139 copies were sold. In one quarter, my royalty check was $0.83. The book may not have been the best seller I had hoped for, but I learned valuable lessons that I was anxious to put to use on my second book which became No Palm Trees on Cuttyhunk. I took on-line workshops and seminars, studied up on things like narrative arcs, plots, voice, and pace. I hired a copyeditor, cover designer, typesetter, and tossed my book into the professional reviewing machine of Kirkus Reviews, a highly-respected literary review company well-known for their honest assessments. If they liked a manuscript they said so. If they didn’t, they said so. Time spent – five years start to finish.

My marketing strategist helped craft the cover bio for No Palm Trees on Cuttyhunk, and asked about earlier books I had written – essential for author credibility. I sheepishly admitted I had published Long Time No Sea fifteen years earlier. “Great! We must refer to it!” she insisted. “No!” said I. “Yes! We must!” came her retort. “No! It’s terrible. I was a mere novice and nothing about that book was right. If we have to use it, it will do more harm to my credibility than good.” She hesitated. “Very well, I have an idea. We’ll refer to Long Time No Sea – Second Edition.” “But there is no second edition,” I said. “Perhaps not yet, but in another year you will launch your new book. That’s your assignment. And tomorrow you will take the original Long Time No Sea out of publication.”

In 2022 Long Time No Sea – Second Edition was published. The original version faded into obscurity.

By October 2025, I will have published three books. Now, I’m noodling around a story for my next book. Nowadays I find that when talking to people about my books, the conversation wanders from the story to the journey of writing it.

When I took the original Long Time No Sea out of publication, I kept a few copies – not to remind me how poor a writer I was when I first stepped into the arena, but to celebrate how far I have come as a reward for not giving up.