NOTHING EVER HAPPENSS ON MAIN STREET
From a young age, I was drawn to drawing pictures, cartoons, and comics. But over time, I realized that my illustrations were merely a by-product of the stories I longed to tell. While art was always enjoyable, I found that the written word allowed for a much deeper exploration of ideas. Writing became my true outlet for storytelling. Fast forward a couple of decades: I was stuck in a monotonous office job with little to no creative expression. On the brink of serious depression and possibly even a nervous breakdown, I knew I needed to make a change. I forced myself to commit to completing a novel, and now, I think I may just be addicted to being an indie writer.
I’ve always found the early 1900s to be an intriguing time period. It’s an era that seems almost forgotten, caught between the realms of steampunk and dieselpunk. I vividly remember visiting a small town in Colorado on the Fourth of July—an area where Nikola Tesla spent part of his life—and the setting struck me as the perfect backdrop for a sci-fi story. During this time, society was on the brink of major modernization, much like the excitement and promise of one’s teenage years—full of exploration and potential, but without the heavy weight of responsibility. It felt like the perfect canvas to build my world.
You really know how to ask tough questions! Character arcs and plot are a bit of a chicken-and-egg situation, aren’t they? Does the character’s behavior shape the plot, or do the events of the story shape the character’s behavior? In truth, it’s a little bit of both. Every character is dealing with something internally, so I ensure that all the plot points align to help them on their journey. Ideally, by the end of the story, the characters are in sync and ready to “stick the landing.” The most important thing is that a strong arc can’t be forced or contrived. I couldn’t have written Nothing Ever Happens on Main Street unless I genuinely felt what the characters were feeling. I took my own personal challenges—whether the stress of responsibility or the grief of loss—and transferred those emotions to my characters. By doing so, I could understand their journey and know what true resolution would feel like for them.
As a newcomer myself, I don’t claim to have all the answers, but I’ve learned so much from engaging with the indie community—whether by interacting directly or simply observing. What stands out most is that there’s no one right way to do things, no single benchmark for success, and you don’t have to work in isolation (unless, of course, you want to). The community is incredibly supportive and diverse, and there’s always room for growth. And, just a quick note: em dashes are awesome. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!
