Thirty years ago, I decided I wanted to be a writer. Last year, I finally became one.
Here's what nobody tells you about writing your first novel.
4/7/20262 min read
Here's what nobody tells you about writing your first novel.
It begins with a push. Mine came from Steven Pressfield's The War of Art. I stumbled across it at exactly the right moment, when I was proud of my professional accomplishments but quietly knew I was meant to do something else. From the first chapter, it felt like Pressfield had written it specifically for me. I closed the book, opened my laptop, and started writing.
That was the easy part.
The first drafts were, to put it generously, garbage. I had the story, the world, and the characters, but I hadn't yet found my voice. Finding it took time, patience, and more deleted pages than I care to count. Eventually, something clicked. The prose started to feel like mine; the story started to breathe.
Reedsy was invaluable in helping me understand structure and formatting, tools I'd recommend to any first-time author navigating the technical side of turning a manuscript into a real book.
Then came the wall that stops many writers before they ever finish.
I needed a professional editor. My manuscript was nearly 700 pages, and every quote I received was between $4,000 and $5,000. As a single dad working in nonprofit fundraising, that wasn't just discouraging; it felt like a closed door.
So, I found another door.
I invested in an AutoCrit subscription and worked on that manuscript myself, day and night, for over a month. Line by line, draft by draft, I learned more about my own writing in those weeks than I had in the previous thirty years. What emerged was a polished, 625-page novel I was genuinely proud of.
Early readers confirmed what I had hoped: this was a different kind of story, not the standard sci-fi fantasy that floods the market, but something written from a different worldview, in a different voice, rooted in a chapter of history most of the world has forgotten—the fall of the last Moorish empire in Granada, Spain.
The Celestial Ashes is now live on Amazon and Goodreads, with five-star ratings on both.
As an African Muslim author, I am deeply grateful for the platforms and technologies that made this possible—that allowed a kid from Corona, Queens, who came to this country at ten years old with nothing but a suitcase and a love of books, to hold his own novel in his hands, finally.
The lesson I want to leave with anyone reading this who has their own version of this dream sitting in a drawer somewhere:
Don't let money or time stop you. Start. The resources will align. The voice will return. The story will find its shape.
And to those who think the creative dream has an expiration date, I started this at an age when most people have made peace with not starting. I am here to tell you that peace is optional.
One more thing: I have already begun work on a three-book series, a science fiction rooted in real theology and real history, a story unlike anything that has been told before. I will share more when the time is right.
For now, The Celestial Ashes is out. And this is only the beginning. 🌑