A reflection…
The first proof copy of my latest book arrived yesterday. I stopped by the mailbox on my way home last night, knowing the package was in there, waiting for me to get home. There is a good bit of, shall we say, “off road travel,” through locked gates, mud bogs, and downed tree debris, thankfully no longer wrapped in powerlines as they had been when I left earlier in the day. As you might imagine, quite a while passed between standing at my mailbox and the moment I finally opened the package.
It was a good thing, because by the time I unwrapped the book, I was thoroughly exhausted by the full day’s goings-on. I cut open the package, held it in my hand, and acknowledged the hefty weight of a 420-page tome that has consumed my world for as long as I can remember.
I smiled and put it down quicker than I would have thought.
There are errors in it. The cover isn’t quite the right color. The typesetting needs work. My publisher knew all these things as well, so there were no surprises. Just acknowledgment.
It is a strange sensation, the moment you hold the first proof edition in your hand. It is genuinely a reserved, more neutral emotion than I ever would have imagined. No giddiness or unmanaged expectations, just a little something like holding your breath.
I am almost finished. I have been “almost finished” with this book for eight years. And I have been saying those exact words with even more well-meaning enthusiasm for at least the last two. I had more than half of it written when I abruptly stopped, began working on a different book, took several years to finish that one (thank you, Pandemic 2020) and THEN picked it back up and began working on it again.
Oh Collin… your multidimensional nonlinear project timelines still crack me up. Haha.
When I wrote the conclusion of The Mastery of Backpacking just a few short months ago, a sense of overwhelming gratitude took over, delightfully obscuring my ignorance to the fact that there were endless hours of work still ahead of me. But just for a moment, I felt the tremendous sense of accomplishment above all else. It doesn’t exactly feel like joy. It is more relief than anything else.
Then came the unending editing rounds, the index, the table of contents, the typesetting, the proofreading. Rinse and repeat. And again. And the decisions! You never know just how many little, tiny, earth-shatteringly important decisions there are here and there that, in theory, will be permanently associated with this “masterpiece” you have written. And just when you think you are finished? No. More decisions.
There are so many different stages to writing a book. There are the initial experiences, the vast “doings” of whatever subject the book is about. In my case, wild and magical adventures from close to my backyard to the other side of the planet. Then there are the years of organizing all the things you think are so important but astonishingly never found in any other books, and the substantial notes I took from all the journals I filled, exploring every inch of trail I could find. And finally, the totality of the experiential wisdom that comes from repeatedly learning everything the hard way, and wanting so desperately to share a better way with the newcomers coming along behind me. Even writing this, I can see why I “jokingly” say it is a lifetime in the making. It honestly is.
I have technically been writing this book since I began backpacking in the late nineties, when my daily walk evolved into a love of hiking, and then came my first backpacking trip as an adult, where I did everything I possibly could, oh so very wrong, and still absolutely fell in love with this thing called backpacking.
I was more than hooked. I was obsessed.
Learning everything the hard way has been exhausting, confusing, and often painful, but it taught me so much more about why I do things this way and not another than simply reading about it ever could. That passion, obsession even? It taught me the mastery of backpacking in all its upsy-downsy life lessons, and especially how to be a good steward of these sacred lands we walk upon. When I first began to think of the idea of this book, all I could think about was how empowering it truly is to walk into the woods with everything you need on your back, ready to go find out what the forest has to say about it all.
There are not nearly enough words in the English language to convey that journey in a single book. Hence, the quiet I felt upon holding it in my hand for the first time. How could I compress my lifetime preoccupation into a mere 420 pages? Or even four thousand twenty pages?
The immensity of this project exists in the gift I hope to share with my readers… and that is for this book to inspire those with the same curiosity and love of the outdoors to be well-informed, and to know the safest and most balanced way to move in harmony with the Earth, upon the Earth, with simple possessions and an inquisitive, wide-open heart. For the Magic of the Wild Wood is real!
And while a printed proof is still sitting on my table… there is yet one more complicated round of edits waiting for me. I will keep you updated, and a publication date will follow.
So, for now? I am going to go take a walk.
xoxCollin