(There are some hiccups / misreads in the original podcast recording, so an edited version will be going up shortly. (** UPDATE ** It’s up.) In the meantime the pages are here so that we can say they were posted before midnight. Now I have to figure out whose glass slipper this is… Should know in a bit. (UPDATE ** I am still trying various feet and checking for foul play / severed toes **)
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It’s worth noting and saying that I have officially written more books in a year than anyone in recent known history. Did it in exactly seven months. Not a day over.
It may mean nothing to the world, as is the case with Guinness World Records, but it means something to me.
It means I believed in myself, no matter what. No matter how many times I was told that what I was doing sounded crazy, and the record wouldn’t be counted, and why bother, my faith was unwavering. Like I said, it’s worth mentioning.
The truth is, if I didn’t love every minute I spent writing, I wouldn’t have even considered pushing the envelope as hard as I did. This never would have happened.
And that’s the beauty of discovering your purpose. You obsess over it so much that it leads to these interesting byproducts. I have twenty-three manuals sitting in my apartment right now, and one of them is in the hands of a complete stranger, and I likely won’t see the manuscript again.
But I have it scanned, and ready for publishing. But this in itself is enough to get the skeptics reeling, I know, as the world needs and wants proof, just so the world can say I told you so.
That’s okay. It’s not like the year is over. It’s not like I’m going to just stop writing after such a beautiful cliffhanger that is the ending of Yacht Man, and so, the good news is—this record doesn’t stop at 24. I say we push the envelope, for the non-believers. I say we make use of these remaining five months of 2021 to really make this no contest. Might as well, if my plan is to just keep writing, anyway.
Thanks for being here with me to celebrate.
-W.V.Carleton
The Record is Broken.