Feel something.

In early 2024 I committed to writing one story a month for a hundred months. As I write this, seventeen have been published. Six wait patiently in the wings. Along the way, one turned into a slim novel. One was a brief, tongue-in-cheek book jacket bio. There is, to my own surprise, an Emoji Book of Genesis.

What started as a simple structure to focus my writing has become more meaningful as I gather steam. I’m starting to see the arc of them, how different stories will start to speak to each other, wondering what patterns emerge. Certainly, I’m learning about myself and about my readers.

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My stories span genres, themes and time. You won’t know what you’ll read. I don’t know what I’ll write. I don’t know what voice they’ll speak to me in. The stories lead me where they will. I try to follow.

Writing a story is like trying to teach oneself to ride a bicycle: it’s wobbly, instructions are useless, and the whole business comes down to speed and letting go. But for all the dings and skinned knees, every now and then there are a few joyful yards of free-wheeling over green grass.

And then it’s a new month, and I’m off to learn to ride a bicycle all over again.

A word about you:

Until I wrote regularly on Substack, I thought the writer did the writing and the reader did the reading. Since then, I’ve witnessed how much of a story’s power is actively created in the minds of my readers. It’s astonishing. I’m charmed and moved to glimpse the stories through my reader’s comments. We get to participate in a magical act of co-creation together. You are my spice drawer. I will try to always respond to your comments.

(Stealth readers, know that you are loved equally.)

Read slowly and—I hope— these characters will be as much yours as they are mine. I promise you I have written them with great care and have dreams for each of them: the astronaut floating untethered, the Yankee knuckleballer, the boy who sneaks into homes, the daughter of Dionysus…

I am introducing my family to you. Faults and all, I want you to love them. They are only human.

Or long to be.

Adam

Notes on Free and Paid Subscriptions

On a practical note, paid subscribers have access to the full archive of stories. Free subscribers have a month to read the current story and related posts. I send a 48-hour warning before a story is pulled from circulation. I am experimenting with reading my stories aloud for my paid subscribers.

My paid subscriptions come to less than $1.50 a month. Above all, your investment in my writing helps promote it on this platform. Substack ties its promotional algorithm very closely to subscriber counts.