The new year is a time for reflection as well as resolution. As I think on the obstacles to my writing career, I have to go back to the beginning.

An Inauspicious Start

I walked into the narrow New York City apartment, still in a daze from the long plane ride. My mother opened the refrigerator and held up a yellowish wedge.

“Cheese. American food—it’s good,” she said in Chinese.

I perked up. Finally, something that made sense. I had never heard of cheese but was eager to try American food. The big bite I took instantly spewed out, leaving behind the taste of vomit in my mouth. I hadn’t thrown up, but that was what it had tasted like. I’ve hated cheese ever since.

That was my inauspicious introduction to America. Unfortunately, it didn’t get better in a hurry. Those early years are muddled memories, punctuated by confusion and fear as I navigated an alien environment. My parents provided little help, struggling themselves to eke out enough income as illiterate immigrants to support their family of four.

New Challenges

School presented relief and new challenges. I liked being with kids my age in the second grade, and many of them from the nearby Chinatown community spoke Chinese. But it still wasn’t cool not to speak English. I remembered being cornered in the bathroom by a bunch of girls who wouldn’t let me pass unless I answered their incomprehensible question. So traumatic was the experience that the question burned into my mind to be understood much later when I had learned the language, “What is your name?”

Direction and Detours from the Library

I learned English through reading books in the public library. Almost immediately, I knew I wanted to be a writer. But life distracted me with many wonderful things—marriage, parenting, and a career as a librarian. In the throes of them, the young dream of becoming an author often dimmed to the point of extinction. But it never went out. Strangely enough, it was Christmas letters that kept it alive. Every year, I considered how I could send season’s greetings in a creative and meaningful way. And every year, I remembered the joys of writing.

When I lost my job in 2020 because of the Covid pandemic. I finally took the plunge and wrote four books in four years—the books of the Far Stone Cycle.

Overcoming the Obstacles

My obstacles to becoming an author might not seem daunting. I had opportunities, and no one else stood in my way. Rather, I had to fight the momentum and dictates of my upbringing. There is a strong impetus in the Chinese culture to work toward financial stability. Growing up poor drove that point home harder. Writing is not a secure or lucrative profession. Yet, I believe that I’ve been given abilities and stories for a reason, and I should not stifle them because of my fears. It still took a leap of faith to step out on that limb. I’m so glad I did.

Nevertheless, the realities of indie publishing are often obscurity and austerity, in a profession that requires revenues to rise out of these predicaments. The struggle continues to find the balance between necessary investments and responsible frugality. I’ve been tempted to cut my losses and quit. Getting almost any job would probably give me a better income than writing. Even doing nothing might be more fiscally sound.

All I have to do is turn my back on grueling work which never seem to end and often push me beyond my limits, but also a labor of love that has filled me with sure purpose and has challenged me to trust ever more in the goodness of my faithful God.

The choice is obvious. Here’s to another year of happy writing.