Wheels are in Motion

DAY 014 - 26/14/1 -

"The wheels are in motion." I've always admired this phrase. Perhaps it's from all the road trips I've taken. They'd start with loading the car and checking the map, but the trip didn't officially begin until the car got rolling.

I had a recent chance to see this phrase in action; not through a road trip, but through my LEGO club. It meets once a month, and I help run it. This month we challenged attenders to build monster trucks. The trucks had to roll down an incline, jump over a ramp and race across two tables, where waiting at the finish line was a pyramid of plastic cups. Whichever car could roll down the track without falling off the side, and knock down the most cups would be the winner. The prize was a new unopened LEGO Jeep.

Everyone was excited to race, but the kids were more excited to win. Some kids finished their cars in minutes and hastily brought them to the track. They watched as they rolled down and then veered off the table, breaking into a dozen colorful pieces. Other kids took more time, designing their cars to race without falling. However, they didn't have enough speed to make it to the finish. A few kids built some fast vehicles, with spoilers and flames, but these racers had no control and ran off at the final stretch.

One kid made a vehicle that fell six times, and it never lost one brick. His goal wasn't to win, but to make the most durable car. Other kids wanted to make stylish, bulky or downright bombastic vehicles. They didn't want the prize. They just wanted to design their car the way they wanted it. Whether it did a front flip, spun backwards, or rolled upside down, it was fine by them.

The night waned on. The sights were amazing, especially the crashes. Still, after 75 minutes, none of the LEGOs were able to knock down the cups. A few of us leading the event started to think we should adjust the rules. Maybe the prize should go to the car that went the furthest. It didn't seem as though anyone was going to beat our challenge.

Then, stepping up to the track, came a boy and girl who looked no older than thirteen. Their car was the size and shape of a math textbook. It had no top carriage and its chassis had three wheels, two in the front and one in the back. As they lined up their big black truck, I told everyone to watch.

Those kids designed the car I would've built.

The boy checked the wheels, and the girl gave it a careful push. The flat vehicle rolled down the incline, bounced off the ramp and landed with a thump. It made its way across the table; the three wheels working together to stay on course. The sheer size of the truck pulled it along, but with only a smooth surface ahead, the car began to crawl. Slow but steady, it breached the edge of the table, and—KERPLUNK! The truck plowed through the finish line, knocking down four cups. We had our winner! And to seal the deal, they came back later and knocked down nine of our ten cups. A definitive winner.

Now, why did I type this on my blog about young adult fiction? Because the same principles that shaped those LEGOs will shape my publishing journey.

My story needs weight - It has to pick up enough momentum, so it can roll down the entire track.

It needs to be solid - Able to land safely over every bump in the road.

It needs guidance - So it can stay on course, without veering into destruction.

It needs enormity - The best way to plow through the finish line and claim a respectful victory.

My book needs to beat the challenge; no changing the rules. Lord willing, I'm going to meet my deadline of November 2026 and I'm going to release a book that dazzles. I've already started meeting with my self-publishing coach, as well as looking into editors, illustrators, and cover designers. With my coach's help, I'll have a publishing road map by the end of this week.

The wheels are in motion, ladies and gentlemen.

The vehicle has left the parking lot.

The LEGOs are rolling down the track.