From Occasional Medium Writer to Self-Published Author
Insights from a donor-conceived person who turned his story into a creative work.
For most of my life, nothing could’ve possibly felt more daunting than writing a book. The thought of even just crafting an essay was a nightmare. Any time writing assignments were given to me in my high school and college days, I knew I’d be pushing them off until the very last minute, avoiding them like the plague. Procrastination was my middle name. Nothing turned me off more than having to research a topic I couldn’t care less about, then regurgitating my findings in a way that just barely avoided the label of outright plagiarism.
These assignments weren’t what real writing was to me. They were rearrangements of other peoples’ thoughts and ideas in a way that ever so slightly could pass off as my own. This kind of work drove me nuts–there was almost no innovative thinking involved and nothing new uncovered. Little did I know this seemingly worthless skillset of rearranging would actually prove itself to be invaluable once I actually had something real to write about.
Having enough to say to fill up fifty, a hundred, two hundred pages… I used to think that was the kind of work reserved only for geniuses. A regular guy like me could never have something important enough to put out into the world, let alone produce something lengthy enough to capture someone’s attention for an extended period of time.
This was what I’d tell myself despite feeling that when I chose to write about my own lived experiences, I could express myself in a way that felt meaningful. I knew an ability to write was there, I just didn’t know exactly how or in what format. Anything longer than a quick, five-minute Medium article felt impossible, and the idea of having enough of a story to fill up an entire book felt like total fantasy-land.
Then, in early 2023, I experienced the sudden, life-changing discovery that I am donor-conceived. Out of nowhere, I was flooded with thoughts and emotions I never had before. New feelings of wonder and bewilderment were flowing through me for weeks and months at a time, some still to this day. This was uncharted territory for me, and all I knew to do was find a way to keep track of everything I was feeling. This meant lots of writing.
After a few months, I had a record of journal entries covering not just my new genetic revelations, but other little bits spanning various subject matters all pertaining to the most significant happenings in my life. Before I knew it, I had a huge pile of raw emotion existing in the form of pages and pages of the inner-workings of my mind. There was no shortage of content to draw from–the ideas just hadn’t been connected yet.
Then, a day came when I held two journals worth of unfiltered expression in my hands and felt that feeling like I had just been given a college writing assignment again. Except this time, there was no procrastinating, no aversion to the task, no begrudging the work that had to be done. On the contrary, I felt excited and eager to dive in. Almost giddy, even.
As I revisited the contents of my journals, I quickly realized I had to tap into that same skillset of rearranging thoughts and ideas that I used to think had no value. Except unlike my academic writing assignments growing up, the thoughts and ideas needing rearrangement this time were my own.
It was at this point the lightbulb in my head lit up. Anyone can write a book. Even me.
I truly mean that. Writing a book isn’t about hitting a certain word count. It’s not about sitting down and having the words free-flowingly pour out of you from start to finish until the story is complete. Maybe some gifted writers can do that–but certainly not me.
Writing is about piecing together many thoughts and ideas that seem to fit with one another, even if some of them might feel like a stretch. It’s about arranging and rearranging. It’s about finding similar themes and building bridges to connect them.
Anyone who journals or keeps a diary can do this more easily than they might think. The story already exists, just as the research and findings for my dreaded academic assignments did. It’s just a matter of learning how to pick it all apart and stitch it together into something coherent and, ideally, at least somewhat thought-provoking.
If you can do that–and I know you can–I promise there’s nothing stopping you from someday being able to call yourself an author, too. Everyone has a story waiting to be told.
Now, if you feel called to do so… go make it happen!
Nick Ludwig is the author of Inconceivably Connected: A True Story of Shocking DNA Results and Chasing the Unknown.