My story this far: I’ve come a long way, yet I have so far left to go.

This week my eleventh work of fiction arrives in stores. The novel is Ghostwriter and I’m proud of it just like I am of my other literary children. It fits in the box of a supernatural thriller yet also tells a love story set in the universe of writing and publishing. So as far as I’m concerned, I hit three of my favorite topics I’ve touched on before.

Needless to say, I hope that people pick up a copy and enjoy it.

My storytelling has grown since the publication of The Promise Remains. Yet, as I discovered Memorial Day weekend, I still feel like I’m in junior high compared to other novelists out there.

I’ve had the pleasure of reading an advanced copy of Carlos Ruis Zafon’s The Angel’s Game that releases next month. Even though his last novel sold over twelve million copies worldwide, I hadn’t heard of the Spanish author until my agent sent me a copy of this upcoming novel. The last novel I can remember reading that mesmerized me so much was Peace Like a River. Completely different stories and writers, but both amazing. I read that book probably five years ago.

Let me rephrase that: the last novel I can remember reading that made me wish I had written it was Peace Like A River. Even though I’m only halfway through The Angel’s Game, I have a feeling it’s going to rank up there with my favorites.

What do I like about it? Everything.

The language is gorgeous and poetic. The story is gothic and epic. Yes, I’m only halfway through, and I’m not writing this to write a review. I’m writing to share that I’m in awe of this author.

There are so many things about this novel that make me jealous. Having admitted that, I want this novel to sell twice as many as his last work.

I never started to write so that I could make money or sign books or share my thoughts on writing or check reviews on Amazon.com. I started to write because I loved what reading did to me. It took me out of where I was for that moment and it transported me somewhere else. It opened new worlds and new personalities to me. It awakened something inside of me. It triggered hopes and fears and loves deep inside this well that I have.

I write to try and attempt to do that very same. But I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: writing is hard work.

Yet I say this not trying to sound humble or trying to be falsely modest: the fact is I need to work harder.

That doesn’t mean I need to Twitter more or spend more time filming myself on book tours. I don’t need to hone my author “brand” (whatever that might be) or concept another author photo (I have enough of those for five authors). I don’t need to plan out the next proposal I send out or figure out how to make the best deal on my next contract.

I need to work harder at the craft of writing.

Simply put, I dare to dream that one day I can write a book like The Angel’s Game. Or like Peace Like a River.

Or the other list of novels I have that stand out for me.

I’ll never write a book exactly like them because I can only write a Travis Thrasher novel. But I believe that I can get better. That the story can be sharper and wiser, that the theme can be deeper, that the words can be more colorful even if I’m slightly colorblind. I believe that if God grants me more time to write, I will continue to get better.

Don’t get me wrong—I feel I’ve come far. I really do. I’m proud of Ghostwriter and of the two novels I’ve written since that one. I feel good about the validation I hear even if I tend to forget it quickly while focusing on the negatives (why can’t I have this . . . when will I ever have this happen . . . blah blah blah). I remind myself that I’m so very fortunate to have had a passion to do something all my life and to be paid to do that very something.

I just want to continue to refine that. Passion can get you far. So can talent. But there’s always more that one can do to hone their craft and their vocation.

As long as I’m given the opportunity to tell stories, I promise to continue to try my best at weaving the most magnificent work I can. At the end of the day, all I can do is look down and see the work of my hands and know that they’re flawed. But I also believe that they can achieve beauty, perhaps in small increments but beauty nevertheless. With enough time and hard work and God’s grace, I might be able to weave something beautiful together.

Books are really, truly magical. I appreciate this universe I live in day in and out. I don’t want the dream to ever end—not the dream of writing fulltime but the dream of dipping my fingers into grace and sharing it on the page in a profound and poetic way. Not with a sermon or a soundbite but with a story.