I make my living writing books, so I get understandably nervous when prognosticators make bold statements about print being dead. What else would I do? In my heart of hearts, when I hear about AI or a more video-centric world, I pray a little prayer that books hang around for at least forty more years. I'll be 102 by then and most likely out of stories to tell. If print died completely right this very moment I would be utterly lost, my professional skill set consisting of arranging words on a page in a way that makes people want to read them, and then read more of them. Over and over and over again until my story runs out of words and I need to write another.
But I don't think print is dying any time soon. There's something special about writing a book that seems to complete the human experience. Even celebrated film directors known for telling stories with pictures seem to feel the need to summarize their years of storytelling by putting words on a page. In the last couple months, my Instagram feed has shown Peter Attia, Des Linden, Emma Lovewell, and more than a few other people holding wild celebrations to celebrate the publishing of their new book. One of Attia's friends even baked a cake in the shape of his book. Emma Lovewell danced in front of a theater full of people. Des masterfully celebrated her marathon achievement with readings before large dedicated groups of runners.
We all have a story to tell. I have lost count of the number of people who have asked me to help them write a book. My answer is always the same:
"It's your story. No one can tell it better than you."
My own dad took this advice to heart. He's written three intense books about his experiences as a Vietnam War B-52 pilot.
All of this is my long way of explaining that today is the best of times and worst of times. Tomorrow, in bookstores everywhere, the paperback of Taking Berlin will be released. A pub date is always time for celebration and I will be certain to wander into more than a few bookstores and move my book to the end cap where everyone can see it. If I don't immediately see a copy in plain sight I will go to the help desk and sweetly ask if the store has copies of Taking Berlin. They'll ask the name of the author, which is where I have to get coy and pretend it's not me. I'll say something like "I think it begins with a D."
I know. Shameless.
The hard part of today is that I turned in my revisions for Taking London. At this point, I no longer control the creative process. I love that book. Back when I was writing hard to meet my May 1 deadline, I was so consumed in the work that I forgot how much fun I was having. These past couple weeks of revisions have allowed me the chance to take a step back and look at the story anew. I moved a lot of things around. I introduced a new character. I took myself back in time, researching Summer 1940 London in a relaxed meander, finding little nuggets of detail — a couple words, a weather report — to add to the story, making it richer for the reader. And now I have to let it go. This is not done easily. Social media means that every critic has a voice. If my past books are an example, the overwhelming number of readers will write glowing reviews. There will also be trolls, eager to find a mistake, whether it be large or small. This voice inside me that poured so much love into Taking London will be abused if left unprotected. To do this, I remind myself that the writing is good, the research is good, and the storytelling is the best I can do right now.
One of the things people ask when I tell them I write for a living is "how many books have you written?" It's a fair question. I never really know the answer. I don't claim the books I've ghosted, I only take half credit when I'm the co-author, and books I've written all by myself include some early works no longer than a pamphlet that don't really count. But as I look at new authors celebrating their one and only book with what can only be called pride, I'm here to tell you that feeling never goes away.
Each new book I release into the world represents a friendship with the characters and subject that corresponds with a life passage. The me who wrote Farther Than Any Man on an island off Borneo during the filming of Survivor's season one is far different from the guy writing Taking London twenty-plus years later. But they're all me. So releasing a book into the world is like putting a version of my soul out there for the world to hear my latest story. My blood and sweat is on every page.
Someday, when I am very old and out of stories, I will go back and read them all again in order, slowly reading page after page, remembering the places I visited and things I saw and experienced to write each book, tracing the tale of my life.
What would we do without print?
