Ryland Hayes

When I first set out to write The Heartland Protocol, I thought I was ready. I’d spent years reading, imagining, and scribbling story ideas on every scrap of paper I could find. I carried dystopian landscapes in my mind like blueprints, and I believed that if I finally sat down with serious intent, the words would flow and the story would take shape. After all, how hard could it be to put the world I’d been dreaming about into sentences?

As it turns out: extremely hard, and entirely worth it.

They tell you that writing a novel is a leap of faith, and I can confirm, that’s no exaggeration. It’s one thing to have characters and settings living rent-free in your head, and another to wrestle them onto the page in a way that’s honest and compelling. In the beginning, my toughest challenge was simply silencing the doubts—those nagging questions about whether I had the skill, the time, or even the right to tell this particular story. If you’re a fellow writer or creator, I have no doubt you know those voices well.

But I also discovered unexpected joys along the way. There’s a particular magic in seeing your ideas unfurl word by word. The characters you thought you knew refuse to behave; they surprise you, challenge you, sometimes even comfort you when the day’s work seems impossible. And every so often, you break through a wall you thought was built to last, and suddenly a piece of the world you’ve created comes alive, as real to you as the red clay hills outside your window.

Writing a novel is humbling. It forced me to confront not just my tendencies toward perfectionism, but also the genuine humility required to learn. Whole sections of The Heartland Protocol have been rewritten, reimagined, thrown away and started anew. The story I set out to tell is not the same story I’m bringing to life—but it’s better for all the detours, frustrations, and the honest reckoning with my own limitations.

And somehow, through all those challenges, there’s an unmatched satisfaction in knowing this is just the beginning. Publishing my debut is about more than crossing a finish line; it’s a first step in a longer journey—an invitation for readers to walk these uncertain roads with me.

If you’re working on your own story, struggling through the mess and the magic, take heart: every draft, every frustration, every late-night breakthrough is its own reward. I hope, as The Heartland Protocol moves closer to the world, you’ll find as much meaning in reading it as I have in writing it. Thanks for sharing this wild adventure with me.