I planned this trip carefully.
The book launch, the meetings, the timing of printed copies arriving from different platforms. I built buffers. I double-checked details. I did what I know how to do: optimize.
And then two things happened that were completely out of my control.
A massive technical glitch hit Amazon KDP, and The Shared Pulse became unavailable as a paperback.
At the same time, a snowstorm disrupted the delivery of the printed copies I had ordered through another platform.
No amount of planning could override a system glitch or a weather system.
At first, there was frustration. Not panic—but a familiar tightening. The instinct to fix, reroute, compensate. To regain control.
And then something else surfaced.
This book I’m launching is about glitches. About the moments when systems designed for efficiency fail—and how those failures reintroduce us to something deeply human: uncertainty, imperfection, presence.
Without trying to, I found myself living the book. Not metaphorically. Practically. I couldn’t optimize my way out of this. I couldn’t explain it away. I could only stay with it.
There is something humbling about realizing that the very forces we build to make life smoother—platforms, logistics, timelines—are also the ones that remind us we are not in charge of everything. And that maybe we were never meant to be.
The glitch didn’t derail the launch. It reframed it.
Instead of asking, How do I make this perfect? I started asking, How do I stay present inside the imperfection?
That question sits at the heart of The Shared Pulse. What happens when control loosens? When optimization fails? When we stop performing competence and allow ourselves to be human again?
Snowstorms happen. Systems fail. Copies arrive late. Plans bend. What remains is how we respond.
I’m still hosting the launch. I’m still reading from the book. I’m still showing up. I’m still waiting for the physical copies to arrive. They may come just before the launch. They may come after.
And I’m holding the gathering regardless.
Because this launch was never only about signing books.
It was about meeting—meeting readers, meeting in a shared space, meeting the questions the book carries before they turn into objects.
Stories don’t begin when ink meets paper. They begin when people sit across from each other and recognize something true.
See you on January 30th, Friday at RecRoom in Lackawanna Station in Montclair at 18:30pm.
