Writing A Book

Over the last few months, Lynn and I have embarked on a journey together to write a book revolving around our individual and shared perspectives on marriage, currently titled "Matching Freckles." For years, we've dedicated ourselves to working on teams, often choosing to remain behind the scenes. It's simply just been our preference based on our personalities. However, we've decided it was time to work on a side project we've been wrestling with for some time now. Our goal is to join the discussion and look to inspire more loving and healthy marriages, ultimately benefiting families. Writing a book is the first step in our endeavor to attempt to provide value in this area. 

Like most my age, I've been slowly progressing through what we call a midlife crisis, or, as my friends and I more appropriately call it, a midlife awakening. Over recent months, I've dedicated daily time to writing, touching on a wide range of topics that reflect my personal perspective on aspects of life, both meaningful and seemingly inconsequential. More than one hundred of them currently need to be shared.

Writing has been therapeutic in this process, allowing me to clarify my values, priorities, and perspectives. It's a journey of self-discovery, evaluating where my perspectives come from and questioning if any adjustments are necessary. Now, this book becomes another step in that introspective journey, and I'm grateful that Lynn will contribute significantly as well.

I believe reflection comes with middle age, where you confront life's realities and acknowledge that death is inevitable, no matter the mind trickery you play on yourself to avoid it. These thoughts led me to a unique contemplation: my own funeral. My motivation may seem unusual to many. The idea nagged at me because, apart from my wife, kids, and a few close friends, very few people who I'd assume would attend genuinely know me - my deepest thoughts, passions, dreams, fears, and perspectives. 

They wouldn't know the values that have shaped my life and the choices I've made. That realization stirred something within me. While it's not my intention to be known or understood by many, it's crucial to me that those who are family and consider me a friend know who I am.

Remembering that you'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things fall away in the face of death, leaving what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose; you are already naked. - Steve Jobs

Now, how does all this connect to writing a book about marriage and sharing a blog post about it before it's even done? If I were in your shoes reading this post, I'd be asking the same question. Well, here's the conclusions I've come to:

I was inspired by a book called "Share Your Work!" by Austin Kleon. I know myself well enough to understand that I'd rather hide away for the next ten years, finding reasons not to do this—or, at the very least, not share it publicly. Sharing this goes way beyond my comfort zone. Lynn might even have a mild panic attack when she reads this. This journey has been and will continue to be challenging. At this point in my life, I prefer the pressure of others knowing. I'd rather fail publicly.

We'll dive into our past, present, and future, struggling to put our relationship into words. We will feel unworthy and probably a bit embarrassed. Imposter syndrome might haunt us. We've already realized that some topics require deeper discussions than we've ever had before. As strong individualists, we don't want to dictate what others should believe or do with their lives. We still have many questions about marriage, and we genuinely seek input from others. We don't have all the answers, but we believe that inviting others into this process will make us better and improve the final product.

Now, why another book on marriage? We probably don't need one, but here's the thing: there are zero books out there from the perspectives of Lynn and me. While the world is full of information, unique perspectives and experiences can make a difference. That's the point—it's personal to us. I read a statistic that 40% of divorces cite "not being prepared for marriage" as a reason for relationship breakdown. I have a son and a daughter, and while they may never pick up the countless books about marriage available on the market, they're likely to read ours.

They've witnessed a well-modeled marriage, but they are only one half of the relationship equation. They're still young and can't fully comprehend the significance of the choices they'll make in this area of their lives in the future. I take it upon myself to ensure that my kids won't cite being unprepared as a reason for a failed marriage. Besides personal responsibility, who else is supposed to prepare them? Lynn and I have begun to ask ourselves these types of questions.

You see, we are approaching two decades of marriage, and we have some experience under our belts. We're also knee-deep in raising teenagers and hope to make the remaining years with our kids as amazing as possible. But beyond our kids, we want our best days as a couple to lie ahead. We envision a future filled with years of deep meaning, enjoyment, and connection. We'll do everything we can to prioritize our relationship correctly.

When I look back on my life, and all I've done well and what I could have done better, I can confidently say my marriage falls into the category of "done well." This credit goes to both of us as individuals and as a couple. We're far from perfect—no one is—we're human. We acknowledge that things could change or go wrong at any moment. We're all capable of making bad decisions. However, the things we've learned over the years have made that outcome less likely. Nothing is certain, but I genuinely believe the odds are in our favor at this point. Now, the real challenge for us is to communicate what has worked for us in a way that's helpful to others.

Beyond all the external reasons, we're excited to take on something challenging, something we'll struggle through, something we will create together, and for ourselves. That's part of feeling alive and doing something meaningful. You can experience enjoyment, be challenged, and feel uncomfortable, yet find pleasure in the struggle. Coming from Louisiana, it makes sense to describe it as a gumbo of conflicting feelings. So far, I've enjoyed writing, but it has also presented significant challenges. Confronting my own thoughts and sharing them with others can be uncomfortable. But there's also pleasure in getting those thoughts out of my head. I enjoy discussing these things with my wife, but it can be a challenge to put our thoughts and feelings into words. It's uncomfortable to talk about vulnerable topics so frequently, yet it brings us closer.

Why not? Those two words have guided my life. There are a million reasons not to write this book, and perhaps not many reasons to write it. But at the end of the day, why not? I believe we have something valuable to offer people. As I've gotten older, I've realized that no one has it all figured out. It's our own responsibility to learn, understand, improve, and choose who we learn from. When it comes down to it, one day, I'll be held accountable for my choices, beliefs, and everything else—just me and me alone. On that day, blaming someone else for my choices would be nothing but an excuse; this includes my role in my marriage.

We know our marriage isn't a perfect blueprint for success, but our hope is that by sharing our experiences and insights, we can offer comfort, guidance, or inspiration to others on their own marriage journey that resonates with real life. It's about learning to navigate our differences, acknowledging each other's individuality, and fostering unity and shared purpose. 

When we envision marriage, the phrase "till death do us part" signifies a lifelong commitment. While not everyone's journey unfolds as planned, I believe the intention is there for most of us. So, if we're committing to a lifelong relationship with the one person we've chosen, why not make it the best it can be?