I want to talk about my debut novel, “Wonderment Within Weirdness.” Not in a sales pitch kind of way, not with a rehearsed elevator pitch or a list of reasons you absolutely must buy it right now. I just want to talk about it honestly, the way I would if we were sitting somewhere having a real conversation. I have been thinking a lot lately about how to share this book with more people, particularly with the writing and reading communities that I genuinely respect and engage with, and I figured the most straightforward thing I could do is just tell you what the book is, what it is about underneath the surface, and why I think certain people would connect with it. So that is what this is. A conversation.
The simplest way to describe “Wonderment Within Weirdness” is that it is a science fiction action-adventure novel about an ordinary person who gets pulled into a multiversal conflict far beyond anything he could have anticipated or prepared for. That is the skeleton of it. A regular guy, an enormous and strange situation, stakes that reach levels that most people would find completely absurd. And honestly, absurd is a fair word for a lot of what happens in this book. The story goes to some wild places. There are multiple timelines, unknown universes, demons, portal guns, a heist in hell, and a threat to existence itself. I am not going to pretend that sounds restrained or modest, because it is not. From the very beginning, I wanted this book to be grand in scope. I wanted it to be epic and layered and ambitious. That was always the intention, and I do not apologize for it.
What I do want to be clear about, though, is that the size and the strangeness of the book are not the point. They are the vehicle. The actual point of the story is something much quieter and more personal, even if it rarely gets the chance to be quiet inside the book itself. The multiverse is not just a backdrop. It is a metaphor. It is a way of exploring uncertainty, and choice, and what happens to a person when the familiar rules of existence stop applying and get replaced by something vast and incomprehensible. I think most people have felt a version of that at some point in their lives. Not with portal guns involved, obviously, but that feeling of reality shifting beneath you, of suddenly not knowing the rules anymore, of being asked to navigate something you were never prepared for. That feeling is at the heart of everything I was trying to do with this story.
One of the things I have reflected on a lot since publishing the book is how much of its meaning I did not fully understand while I was writing it. That sounds strange, maybe, but I think it is true of a lot of writing. You put something down on the page because it feels right, because it is the honest thing, and only later do you look back and see what you were actually doing. Looking back at “Wonderment Within Weirdness” now, I can see how richly thematic it is, how much it is really about conflict, resilience, morality, and the way individuals navigate chaos. I can see that it is, in some ways that I did not consciously plan, an anti-war novel. Not in a heavy-handed or preachy sense. But the weight of violence accumulates throughout the story. The cost of conflict is never abstract. It lands on the protagonist in ways that are personal and real, and I think that honesty about what conflict actually does to people is one of the things I am most proud of in the book.
The protagonist himself is somebody I care about a great deal. He is not a hero in the conventional sense. He does not have a secret destiny or a hidden power that gets activated when things get bad enough. He is just a person who finds himself in circumstances that are completely beyond him, and he has to figure out how to keep going anyway. He is not defined by confidence or certainty. He is defined by his refusal to completely give up, even when giving up would be the reasonable response to everything happening around him. I wrote him that way deliberately, because I find that kind of resilience far more interesting and far more honest than the polished invincibility you often get from genre protagonists. His struggle is emotional as much as it is physical. His arc is as much about mental endurance as it is about the external conflict. Mental health as a theme is not something I grafted onto the story after the fact. It is woven into the fabric of who he is and how he moves through everything the book throws at him.
I also want to say something about the length, because I know it comes up. The book is over 600 pages. For a debut novel, that is unusual, and I am aware of that. When people hear that number, there is often a moment of hesitation. But I want to be honest about why the book is that long, because it is not padding and it is not self-indulgence. It is because I had a genuinely enormous story to tell, with layers of plot and subplots and characters and ideas that could not be compressed without losing something essential. The story is dense and sprawling and chaotic in places, and that is intentional. It reflects the nature of the world I was building. The length is the length because the story demanded it, and I stand by that. I also think readers who commit to it find that the size of the book becomes part of the experience. There is a particular kind of satisfaction that comes from finishing something that took real investment, and I wanted to give readers that.
There is also humor in the book, and I want to mention that because I think it sometimes gets overlooked in conversations about themes and meaning. “Wonderment Within Weirdness” is funny in places. Not in a way that undercuts the serious moments, but in a way that lives alongside them. I think absurdity and sincerity can coexist, and I think some of the most honest moments in any piece of fiction come from the collision of those two things. The book leans into its own strangeness with a certain amount of self-awareness, and I think that tonal balance is one of the things that makes it feel different from a lot of other science fiction I have read. It does not take itself so seriously that it forgets to be alive, but it does not use humor as a way to avoid saying something real either.
Now I want to speak directly to the communities I genuinely respect and engage with, the writers and readers who spend time thinking carefully about storytelling and craft and the experience of creating and consuming fiction. If you watch channels like The Creative Penn, where Joanna Penn has spent years building an incredible resource around the craft and the business of being an indie author, then you already understand that independent publishing is not a lesser version of traditional publishing. It is just a different path, and the books that come from it deserve the same serious engagement. “Wonderment Within Weirdness” is a book I made on my own terms, through the independent route, and I am proud of that. I think the community that Joanna has built is exactly the kind of community that understands what that means.
If you watch Brandon Sanderson’s lectures and channel, where he breaks down world-building and narrative structure with a generosity and clarity that I genuinely admire, you might find something interesting in the way I approached my own world-building. The multiverse in my book is not decorative. It is structural. The rules of how it works matter, and the way the protagonist interacts with those rules is the spine of the plot. I think readers who appreciate that kind of intentional construction in speculative fiction will have a lot to engage with here, even if my approach is messier and more chaotic than Sanderson’s famously rigorous systems.
If you follow channels like Hello Future Me, where Timothy Hickson does incredibly thoughtful video essays about how storytelling builds meaning through its architecture, then the thematic layering in “Wonderment Within Weirdness” is something I would genuinely love you to dig into. The anti-war elements, the mental health themes, the use of the multiverse as metaphor rather than just spectacle — these are all things that are there to be found if you are reading with that kind of attention. I am not claiming the book is perfect. No debut novel is. But I am claiming that there is more going on beneath the surface than a casual glance might suggest, and that is exactly the kind of book that channels like Hello Future Me are built to celebrate.
To everyone who watches Abbie Emmons talk about the psychology of storytelling and why certain narratives connect with readers on a level that goes beyond plot, I want you to know that the emotional core of my book was never an afterthought. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted readers to feel and why, about how the protagonist’s internal experience should track against the external chaos of the story. The emotional resonance was the thing I cared about most, even when I was writing scenes that are, on the surface, completely bananas. If you watch Jenna Moreci’s channel and appreciate her honest, direct takes on what works and what does not in genre fiction, I think you would find “Wonderment Within Weirdness” to be a genuinely interesting case study. It does some things very well and it takes some risks that do not always land perfectly, and I am at peace with both of those things. That is what a debut novel is.
For those who follow channels like Author Level Up with Michael La Ronn, where the focus is on what it actually means to build a body of work as an indie author and keep showing up for your craft, I want to say that “Wonderment Within Weirdness” was just the beginning for me. I also released a poetry compilation called “My Powerful Poems” and a short story collection called “Some Small Short Stories” in 2025, making three books in a little over a year. I am not saying that to brag. I am saying it because I think the writers in those communities understand what it means to commit to the work, to keep creating even when it is difficult, and “Wonderment Within Weirdness” is where that commitment started for me. It is the book that proved to me that I could actually do this.
If you spend time reading blogs like The Creative Penn, where the conversation around indie publishing and the author journey is as rich and sustained as anywhere on the internet, I think the story behind my book is as interesting as the book itself. I am a writer and a scientist, and I came to this debut novel with curiosity and a refusal to simplify things, whether that means the plot, the themes, or the emotional experience of the protagonist. That approach is reflected on every page. It is also reflected in the blog I maintain at jaimedavid.blog, where I write about the book, about the themes, about what it means to be an indie author navigating all of this. If you read Jane Friedman’s blog and appreciate the honest, practical, thoughtful engagement with the realities of the publishing world that she consistently provides, then you know that independent authors are part of that conversation too, and I want to be part of it.
The book is available in print and ebook through Lulu and various online platforms including Amazon. It is not a perfect book. I do not think first novels usually are, and I think there is something a little dishonest about pretending otherwise. But it is an honest book. It is a book that came from a genuine place, that was written with real ambition and real feeling, and that has more going on inside it than its genre surface might immediately suggest. If you are part of the writing and reading communities I have mentioned here, if you spend time thinking about craft and story and what fiction can do when it is willing to take risks, then I think “Wonderment Within Weirdness” is worth your time. Not because I am telling you to read it, but because I genuinely believe you would find something in it worth thinking about.
That is really all I wanted to say. Go check it out if it sounds like your kind of thing. And if you do read it, I would genuinely love to know what you thought.


