Memory Lane

It’s 10:30 a.m. on Saturday, March 13, 2021, and I just finished adding some of my favorite photos to gallery that will appear on a new website I’ve been working on for the past year. It’s been a slow-going process, but something I had anticipated given the number of projects I juggle at any given time. Recently, I’ve found myself poring over thousands of old travel photos and reliving some amazing memories in the process. If a picture is worth 1,000 words, then consider my new website a novel in and of itself.

I’ve traveled extensively over the past six years while researching and writing my novel, The Search for the Last Imperial. I’ve stood atop ancient Mayan pyramids in Guatemala, taken a selfie with a grizzly bear in Alaska (not recommended) and walked through crocodile-infested waters in Costa Rica (also not recommended). I’ve also knocked off a few bucket-list items along the way, including taking a hot-air balloon ride over Africa’s Serengeti and exploring the U.S. by car—excuse me, van.

A few months back, I visited one of my best friends from high school, Brandon, on my way to hike the high point of Virginia. At dinner, he mentioned his kids had a few questions they wanted to ask. The eldest son, a seven-year-old boy named David, turned toward me and said, “What’s it like living in a van?” I couldn’t help but smile. Truth be told, I’m no longer living in my van fulltime, nor have I been traveling quite as often since I’ve been engaged.

But David didn’t need to know all of that. This was an opportunity to build up his childhood imagination, so instead I told him about the places I’ve visited the past year like Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge off the coast of Virginia, Seneca Rocks in West Virginia’s Canaan Valley and the summer colony of Martha’s Vineyard in Massachusetts. His eyes opened wide when I mentioned where I was heading next: North and South Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky and Missouri.

Next, it was 5-year-old Audrey’s turn to ask a question. She pivoted in her chair, pushed back a tangle of light-brown hair behind one ear and said: “Why does it take so long to write a book?” You know, kids have a way of saying things that most grown-ups won’t. It was a valid question, though, and a lot came to my mind as I sat at the table chewing on an appropriate response. I said, “Some goals take longer than others to complete, but if you’re really passionate about something, then you have to keep moving forward no matter the cost.”

I’ve thought a lot about Audrey’s question in recent months. In fact, it’s a question I’ve asked myself many times before. Why has it taken me so long to write this book? Looking back, a few things come to mind. First, and something I remind myself often, is that birds were once as foreign of a subject to me as space exploration and nuclear fusion. I literally knew nothing about them other than the fact they had wings and could fly. It’s taken me years of on-again, off-again research to simply come up with an intriguing plotline let alone cultivate a writing style that would keep readers entertained.

Second, timing is everything. The avian bird flu, a legit virus that has killed thousands of wild birds, has always been a central focus in my book long before Covid ever made us stop and acknowledge the wide-scale disruption that a global pandemic could have on our lives. Despite the fact I had imagined a similar scenario for my book, the whole idea still seemed a little far-fetched until 2020. More importantly, though, experiencing the harsh realities of lockdowns, travel restrictions and social distancing helped put things into perspective in a way I could never have imagined on my own. The eerie correlation between fiction and reality also helped stir a renewed sense of urgency to finish this book while the topic is current, which brings me to my final point: priority.

Early on, when people used to ask what I did for a living, I didn’t tell them I worked in real estate or that I run an education nonprofit. My first response was that I was writing a book. When I wasn’t working to make ends meet, I was in my room writing, reading, researching. Completing this book consumed most of my free time during my 20s to the point I had become so caught up in the destination that I was unable to enjoy the journey.

It wasn’t until I started traveling that my understanding of the process radically changed. Once I entered my 30s, I slowly began to develop a greater sense of self-awareness that, for me, has been cultivated through many years of introspection that comes from spending time in both solitude and nature. It’s an inward peace that hasn’t always existed in my life and something that, when absent, can feel like a chasing of the wind. Not having it nearly cost me my dream in 2017 after my timeline for publication was delayed indefinitely.

I lost my passion for writing as a result, and for the next three years, I was becalmed in my own creative doldrums without an imaginary wind to set me back on course. I started putting more of an emphasis on making money and building my business and less time on following my passion. Worse, I stopped telling people about my dream all together, and when someone asked what I did for work, I no longer mentioned that I was writing a book.

But if life has taught me anything, it’s you can never outrun what you are called to do even after you come to the realization that you’ve been running in the wrong direction. Sometimes, you have to travel those extra miles to prepare you for what lies ahead. Chasing dreams has a way of pushing people to their mental and physical limits, and I’ve realized lately that mental clarity comes with being in physical shape.

It’s why I continue to run long distances, stay active, and stay disciplined. Back in December, I drove to the Smoky Mountains National Park hoping to hike Clingman’s Dome, the highest point in Tennessee, but a winter snowstorm delayed my start. I realized I didn’t have enough time to make it back before dark, so I changed plans and decided to run all the way to the top—18-miles round-trip through snow and freezing conditions.

I often listen to motivational speeches when I’m running or working out because it fills my mind with positive thoughts. It reminds me to never give up, to keep pressing forward, one day at a time. It’s all about the little gains. As it relates to my writing, a gain for me is making time to write every single day. Somedays, I’m successful. Other days, I’m not. What's most important is that writing is once again a priority in my life.

Brandon later told me how happy David and Audrey were after I gave them a couple of Maven the Raven bookmarks, the main character of my novel. It’s the small gains that keep me moving forward with the understanding that one day, I’ll be able to create a new photo gallery filled with pictures of me accomplishing my goals. And a long time from now, when I’m old and grey, I’ll be able to look back on Memory Lane and know I gave it my all.

Follow me on Instagram at @Joshua_Maven or @HonchotheVan, on Twitter @MaventheRaven or Facebook at Facebook/TheLastImperial.