In many ways, a work of fiction is like a container. It holds within itself a collection of small relationships that grow and evolve over time: the author to his characters, the characters to one another, and of course, the characters to the audience.
And then there’s this intriguing aspect where the author shares a connection with the audience, often by proxy of these fictional characters. Stephen King famously said, in On Writing, that writing is something which “begins in the mind of the author and finishes in the mind of the reader.”
For many of you here, you already know me to some extent, and while you are likely familiar with my work, you may not be familiar with this specific work. Vastland. In fact, aside from a few close friends and my editorial team (who also happen to be my close friends, so really, it’s all just close friends), my work of fiction has remained largely out of sight.
This is intentional.
Writing is, perhaps, my truest love. And for this very reason, I’ve kept it close. Savored the process, as I worked out how I wanted it to work. And, like all things that emerge over time, this slow and steady plodding eventually led me here. To a completed book.
For those new to Vastland, I’d like to extend a heartfelt thank you for being here. In the current economic climate of time and attention, devoting some of both to a new world like Vastland carries even more weight. You signed up on the promise that this would be interesting, and I intend to deliver on that promise. The best way I know how to do that is to tell one hell of a good story. And to tell a good story, you need a good ending.
I’ve heard Vastland has a real barnburner of a finale, but you all will be the final judge of that. I invite you to read this work in good faith, understanding that while you aren’t holding a printed book in hand, it is indeed a complete work of fiction which will unfold over the course of six months and conclude in early February. Consider this post proof of that, and know I’ve spent the last ten years mapping out how we arrive.
Within the field of mathematics, there’s this elegant symbol known as the Tombstone—also known as the Halmos or Halmos Finality—which is used to denote the end of a proof: ▮
The symbol was popularized by mathematician Paul Halmos, who introduced it as an alternative to the more formal Latin abbreviation Q.E.D. after noticing its use in print at the end of a written work. And as you’ll soon discover, I’m big on circles with a twist, so I thought it would be a good idea to start our introduction with the end in sight.
So here’s our own tombstone (symbolic and spoiler free, of course): a screenshot ripped straight from Obsidian, where the final draft of this manuscript lies in wait.
Six weeks from today, Chapter 1 releases, and with it, a milestone marking the steady rhythm of a new chapter every Monday and another every Thursday at 5 PM (PST) until we see our characters either get to Mars or die trying.
There are many factors that influenced my decision to serialize Vastland, but rushing unfinished work wasn’t one of them. While I finished Vastland back in December, I wanted time to gather feedback, make one final pass with my editorial team, and put that last little bit of polish onto every page. Over the course of the last seven months, the response and support I’ve received regarding sharing in this format have moved me from cautiously optimistic to generally thrilled.
From some of you, I heard that sci-fi, especially hard sci-fi like Vastland, can be daunting to start, let alone finish, and that smaller, meaningful portions are easier to digest. Others, especially my advanced readers, provided feedback that their preferred way to enjoy the story, which is both demanding as a narrative and rich with layers of meaning and symbolism, often felt best when there was time to let it linger and expand.
Read, pause, reflect. Step away for a few days, let things quiet down. See what sticks, what comes back without asking. Feel what resonates. And then, come back for the next chapter.
My hope is that you’ll follow along as new chapters come out, but if you’d rather read it all at once, the chapters will always be there for you to return to and enjoy at whatever pace suits you. I’ve worked hard to customize some of Substack's buttons to mimic an e-reader, which should aid navigation between chapters or jumping to the index. However, this is an emergent process, and I’ve never launched a book before, so feedback is welcome!
Fast fiction, this is not. Although be warned, the pull of Mars is real, and I’ve seen firsthand how starting this book is like being pulled into a loop. Once you’re in, good luck getting out.
I know that’s my favorite way to engage with stories, and really, Vastland is just a collection of all my favorite things. Imagine me, like Julie Andrews, belting out her favorite things in The Sound of Music, except instead of 'Do a deer, a female deer' and 'Re a drop of golden sun,' it’s all 'D' for Drugs and 'Q' for Quantum Mechanics.
More than anything, I’m having fun, and I hope it’s contagious. I hope Vastland offers you an experience across the whole gamut of human emotions. I hope it kicks you around a bit, makes you think, and more than anything, enjoy the ride.
I’ve got some surprises up my sleeve, and along with my team, have been working diligently to make this a production worth your time and attention. So, here’s to the start. I’ll see you next week, where you’ll get a chance to learn a bit more about me and see some more of what’s to come with Vastland as we close in on launch day.
Until next week,
⭕️
Im locked in and if this was a roller coaster I’d be in the front.