The Whole Damn Thing

Art's destination is worth the journey. Isn't it?

In the opening scene of my novel Folio, the protagonist Terrance Tusley—elderly, successful war photographer for Life magazine—stands before a classroom of youthful college students, scanning their faces “for a hint of recognition” of his name.

“As usual, there is none. Not yet.”

His disappointment is palpable. After all, fame was (almost) all he ever wanted. But once the Kodak Ektagraphic III slide projector begins to click its way through the eerie slideshow of Tusley’s life work (Dear Reader: you have to wait until the end of the book for this), the recognition does indeed come, in spades.

And herein lies the conflict. Is Tusley all about ambition and fame? Or is he a brave, hardworking photojournalist willing to put his own well-being (and the well-being of others) in danger… all in the pursuit of exposing the truth? Like Tusley, who among us can say for sure just what we’re after when we embark on a journey, especially if that journey’s destination is recognition as an artist… a visionary… the giver of truth and beauty?

And, what if it takes a lifetime to figure that out?

I launched my career as an author in April 2025, “career” being a strong word… more like a side-gig… but a major milestone for me, nonetheless. Family and friends congratulated me; a sense of true accomplishment overcame me when I held the physical book in my hands. When strangers started picking up the book, I was elated.

Ten years had passed since I’d first conceived the storyline, inspired by a heated kitchen table conversation at dinner one long-ago night, related to who-took-a-better-photo that day. From there, I’d leaped to the question of how far some people would go in pursuit of their own strange, self-defined notion of glory… and how that pursuit could have real consequences for those folks surrounding that ambitious, driven person. It was easy to see that I related closely to this passionate, workaholic protagonist, Terry Tusley. In fact, I hated him for a while (which wasn’t great for the story - let the editing begin!). Over time, I learned to be sympathetic to him, and it was interesting to write about all the secondary characters who had to respond and react to him, most especially his children.

One unexpectedly large impact to the book-in-progress was the loud emergence of fake news, which was a phrase that truly didn’t exist in the common lexicon when I began my book. Yes, the manipulation and “staging” of news photographs and photojournalism’s close relationship with propaganda went all the way back to Matthew Brady and the Civil War and continued in force through WWII and Korea. It was nothing new and often considered to even be patriotic from the standpoint of journalists back then. But the idea that journalistic integrity itself could be in doubt… that crossed the line in a new way. I felt compelled to address it, even as the journey of the writing process was well underway. At times, over the past ten years, I had the suffocating feeling that I had to cover The Whole Damn Thing—politics, leadership, modern journalism—and it felt like more than I was equipped to manage.

But the pull to write… the tale itself, with all its abstractions, subplots, character studies and scene-settings… it was just too much to give up. I had the destination in my sights, all along the way. I would—like my ambitious, driven protagonist Terry Tusley—pursue my dream to the end. It would be flawed. But it would be Art.

Wouldn’t it?

Now that The Whole Damn Thing is done, I sit back and wonder if the journey was worth the personal cost, and whether the outcome would enrich anyone’s perspective. The world—that is, my potential audience of readers and reviewers—has been known to change overnight… forget about ten years! It is a reality I must contend with. Like Tusley, I wonder, as I look out at all the fresh (probably AI-generated) faces across the multiverse, whether my story is relevant… whether there is a “hint of recognition” of the book, or of the investment I made to create something out of nothing.

Chapter Sixty
Terry

I touch the advancing button of the projector. Always a few blanks at the front, then the first image snaps into view.
Everything, every goddamn thing, is predictable.
Except for that.
I look up at the image projected on the screen.
“For God’s sake. For Christ’s sake,” I say, like I always do.
Like I have for ten years.

It will take time to find out if the destination was worth the journey. Maybe the journey itself ends, but our experience of it doesn’t ever end. That’s some small comfort, isn’t it?

Tusley himself knew this to be the truth. Good for him.