Between Sicily and the Sea: My Journey to Seeds of the Pomegranate

A few months from now, I’ll be standing in a bookstore, or at a festival, or on a Zoom square, reading from the book I’ve spent the better part of the last fifteen years writing.

Seeds of the Pomegranate is my debut novel. Not my first book—I have three other nonfiction books knocking around in the world—but my first novel. The first time I trusted myself to tell a story not from facts and arguments, statistics and data, but from my heart. Or more specifically, from that voice deep inside, searching for a way to make sense of the things I’d experienced: my dreams, my longings, my pain.

In the beginning, I had no idea what I was doing. I had confidence—after all, I’d brought three relatively well-received books into existence. But after I finished the first draft (which, by the way, I thought was the final draft), I realized just how little I understood. Like Icarus leaping from the cliff, I believed my wax wings would hold me. Instead, I plummeted—disappointed, confused, unsure what to do next.

One of my favorite stories to tell now is about that first editor who read my book. She said, kindly but clearly, that I needed to rework it using scenes.

“Scenes?” I asked. “What are scenes?” That was the depth of my ignorance. My unknowing.

If I weren’t so bullheaded, I might have taken that feedback as a sign to return to my life as a lawyer and academic. But the story of Seeds—especially the protagonist, based on my great-grand-aunt Mimi—had taken root inside me. I couldn’t have stopped, even if I wanted to.

So I took writing classes. I began to understand scenes, narrative arcs, and character wants and needs. I wrote and rewrote. Seven drafts, maybe eight—I stopped counting. Each time I opened a new file, I tried to get closer to Mimi, leaning in to hear her whispering across the ages.

Mimi became my confidant. My closest friend. She stayed with me as I tried to make sense of a world that often felt hostile, sometimes even unintelligible. She reminded me of an old Sicilian saying:

A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.

Now, the page proofs are done. I’m collecting blurbs and applying to literary festivals. Scouring the internet for cultural centers and bookstores. My little boat—the novel of my heart—is about to launch into unknown waters. Some things will go as planned; others won’t. But Mimi will be there with me, helping me navigate.

If you’re launching something—a book, a business, a new version of yourself—I see you. It’s not easy. But it’s necessary. Because our stories don’t change the world until they’re shared.

So here I go. Nervous. Excited. And yes—brave.

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If you’d like to follow the journey—from early blurbs to launch events and behind-the-scenes glimpses—I’d love to have you along. You can:

📚 Preorder Seeds of the Pomegranate here
✉️ Subscribe or share this post with someone who might need it
💬 Or just hit reply—I’d love to know what you are launching

Let’s brave the waters together.