TikTok said I should write a book

Recapping my 83rd week of cycling around the country

“You should write a book,” many have said to me along the way, including TikTok.

I laughed out loud the first time someone said it. I was in Florida after bungling my way through a couple thousand miles, a distance that several thousand cyclists exceed every year. What could I possibly write besides an ode to bad planning?

I’ve never even considered myself a writer. Grammar rules always came easily to me, and my mind soaks up new vocabulary, but I skated through my language arts classes with just enough effort to keep a decent GPA. It never interested me.

I realize now how much that changed in adulthood. I became a regular on various sports, parenting, and political blogs. I put a lot of care into each comment to capture my perspective with as much nuance as possible. Some of my comments even used the classic five-paragraph essay format. I read way too many court rulings, admiring the precision with which they used and interpreted language. I used the same effort when posting Facebook photos with captions that captured the spirit of the memory I wanted to keep… and once again when I felt compelled to bring my political voice into my personal page.

But a book??? That’s way out of my league.

By now, though, I’ve ridden the equivalent of four cross-country tours, and I’ve collected plenty of stories along the way. That’s gotta count for something. I’ve also been straddling our socioeconomic divide in a way that would surely add a rare perspective to any theme I might want to address. The idea doesn’t seem so laughable anymore.

TikTok’s algorithm detected my growing interest in writing and fed me steadily more videos about the craft and industry. I virtually attended the Texas Writing Workshop in March. It inspired me to start this newsletter to practice the skill, clarify what I want to say, and see if anyone cares to hear it.

All of which drove home one key point: writing well takes a lot of time and energy that I don’t have.

I’ve already fallen several weeks behind on this “weekly” newsletter. Each day’s ride saps me of mental energy in a way that’s hard to understand, leaving me with few coherent thoughts at the end of the day. Even when I bust out the laptop for a midday break, I’m often drawn into a conversation either on my phone or with strangers who notice my bike; a chat in McDonald’s this Monday lasted for two hours. The human connection is important and appreciated, but… tick tock, tick tock.

I need to be reading other travel memoirs to better understand the genre. Lin offered me access to her MasterClass subscription, but I haven’t even found time to log in and browse the offerings. I hardly ever talk to my mom anymore; Sunday is Mother’s Day — like I said, I’m way behind on this newsletter — so at least the calendar is nudging me to do better there. Oh, and I’m months behind on my day job.

I firmly believe that I can do anything I want—but I can’t do everything I want. Do I really want to put in the massive amount of time it would take to do this right? Even if I did, what shape would the story even take? A rambling journal would suck, trust me. What if I devote this portion of my life to writing a book that nobody outside my family wants to read?

I sat with all of this indecision at a Panera outside of El Paso when I logged in for the Nonfiction Writers Conference. It consisted of a dozen Zoom classes, a chance to watch as select authors pitch their book to agents and receive feedback, and three opportunities to chat directly with an industry professional for 15 minutes.

All of it was incredibly useful for a baby writer such as myself, but the one-on-one calls seemed like my best chance to see if this is worth doing. The first two went well, though both were severely limited by the fact that I had no idea what theme I wanted to write.

I refilled my coffee and agonized over the first draft of my pitch letter for the next three hours. I’m sure it sucked, but I think I at least got the structure right, so it would be a useful starting point for feedback.

I hopped on my bike, making my way to the next town in time for my third call. By the side of the highway, my phone rang an hour earlier than expected. I had screwed up the time zone difference. 🤦 I didn’t have my pitch letter in front of me. I struggled to get away from the road noise. I didn’t even remember the person’s background. It wasn’t good, especially since her expertise was more in the area of public speaking than writing.

How can I write a book when I can’t even pitch a book???

I remembered my pappy always saying that being bad at something is the first step toward getting good at it. I guess I’m making progress. There’s another conference I can attend in person when I get to Seattle. Hopefully I’ll be better prepared by then.

This week I was grateful for delicious red beer, finishing my time in Texas, and industrial power washer disguised as a Planet Fitness shower. 🫶✨ Subscribe if you want to hear about next week and wish me luck!

This week: 365 miles     Year-to-date: 3,294 miles     Cumulative: 12,807 miles