A full-time writer seeking help from friends, family, ex-coworkers, neighbors and strangers. The journey to royalties is one for the ignorance I admit.
I’m a writer for the people.
Seeking support from strangers.
Chasing down a dream – this isn’t what fame’s for.
But from here I go forth.
And asking ThePeople for help was my fear.
Now through suffering I grow sheer.
From the concrete is love we mow.
With the sun I shine for show.
Giving away my pride and joys.
First of many; Budd’s toys:)
Good morning, good evening, and good night readers –
My name is TK, I currently write under the pen name of Budd Hansen. I completed my day view novel July 24, 2019; book one of the Divine IX Trilogy: Bourgeoisie I.
I began writing this novel on my 32nd birthday – December 18, 2018. Three months later when I was 30,000+ words into the manuscript, the software program I used to write book one crashed, leaving me with nothing.
This was after a trip below the equator to Porto Seguro, Brazil; where I had finalized the main character’s name looking above to the Milky Way. Prior to the trip, I ran many routes on the edges of states to create the vivid stories of Bourgeoisie I – about an immigrant who comes to a refined America as a young boy, becomes an athlete, forgoes the league and instead works as a freelance architect to fix racism.
(February 2019) New York City - Brookfield Place; en-route to Porto Seguro, BA, Brazil.
Through the fears of being portrayed a phony, the anxiety which drove me into my first panic attack since college, I learned to meditate better and rewrote the manuscript in a 65-day period.
I was ignorant to think I could do so and put a date on it, but I did. I was ignorant to think I’d never go broke chasing a dream, and I did. I was also ignorant to tell people when I’d be selling book one without no one’s help, which is why I'm here.
Despite the pain and fear, book one is here.
I bore it all out of tears.
I fought for what got me near.
A book I thought I’d complete in Spring.
Soon a panic attack to better write Rigil’s fear.
3 months late.
Thus, a black man’s fate.
Are you willing to help?
So far I’ve proved I’m great.
I promised to be back at Brookfield Place.
With a proof to show off.
#Amwriting from Portland, Oregon.
Who woulda' thought?
Near tears as we took off.
(August 2019) New York City - Brookfield Place - Before running Manhattan.
Where’s the money going?
I currently have beta readers looking over what will be the first edition of Bourgeoisie I. I'll have print on demand copies, an eBook, and an audio book available on Amazon as soon as we clean up the manuscript. Funds will be used for me to catch up on my mortgage, edit book two and three, buy more ISBNs/bar codes, and cover art. (Book one was done by me)
I plan to implement milestone activities on the go as funds are collected. *
Goal #1: $4,500 – I'll run a special route in Portland, OR – and later share the poem I wrote in my head on the run. – E.g., Written On The Run In DC.
Goal #2: $6,600 – I'll share in detail my overcoming story of emotional suicide. See, Life After Suicide.
Goal #3: $8,800 – A trip to the bay area to run the Golden Gate Bridge to develop a short comedic story.
Goal #4: $11,500 – I'll share an honest story behind the writing process of book one.
Goal #5: 15,500 – To Publish: What Is Love? (A short essay)
Goal #6: $18,500 – Donor’s pick.
Goal #7: $22,000 – To Publish: WHITE NOISE (a personal short story)
Goal #8: $26,000 – I'll give 15% of contributions to either a homeless shelter, close charity, or organize a hands-on outreach activity.
Goal #9: $29,000 – Donor’s Pick.
Goal #10: 32,000 – I'll publish a free book written out of meditation.
Goal #11: 33,000 – A poetic thank you to include all donors’ names**
*Subject to change.
**Format and platform to be determined.
How Did I make it this far?
My story begins from the many places I’ve been. Traveling across America from the day my father drove my family and I to Jonesboro, Louisiana – I was 4 years old dreaming one day it would start with you.
They called me Budd; starting with my mom who’d then pinch my nose, “Hey Budd, how was school?”
Often bored throughout the school day, I’d yearn for the after-hours to play with MyBuddy. A black doll whose eyes were as candor in the light as they were in dark. Although the doll is no longer manufactured, the ending of his creation begins a black boy’s wildest dream.
(July 1998) - Budd in Tokyo, Japan
To one day sit at home as the world spins.
Writing a story to those who can no longer pretend.
In an office all day flickering a pen.
Maybe one day they’ll let us play again.
Adulting is implementing rules to look important and win.
The home of a lifetime.
And not have to wake up and get to work on time.
I was always late.
Procrastinating; desiring to create.
The best part was traveling for meetings.
Anxiety shaking the C-suite’s hands for greetings.
I wrote in between wishing one day we could see things,
Differently because there’s no way I’m the only one of this thinking.
I followed my passion for aviation – bringing me into a network of high performing sales leaders, niche industry workers, and for myself a man who’d sale through the roof. I was selling data in the field I first dreamt to fly in.
With the pressures of hitting sales numbers, I’d soon hit new heights of anxiety. However, I found it feasible to travel with my love, write with no boundaries, bringing me back to where my story began. Jonesboro, Louisiana – where the Joe of my true middle name spoke to me.
Not every family has a writer, but I guarantee that you are kin to someone who thinks they can change that. And writing is hard, if it wasn’t for my successful sales career I wouldn’t be writing to you.
Over a 30-day period after leaving Jonesboro in the summer of 2018, I contemplated my next move. I was 8 months into my aviation sales career, and well on my way to another six-figure success story. Despite the sales pipeline in my favor, anxiety instead smacked the same nose my mom pinched. I smelt the fear of missing out on a dream; and not being honest with my sales director about the unhappiness at my desk, it created the voice in my head which wouldn’t shut up.
It often said, “just go write little negro…”
I eventually told my boss how I was feeling; later informing him I’d be leaving the company early 2019 to pursue a writing career. That same day I was let go – leaving me with a full head of inspiration to write poetry, short stories, freelance articles, and later empowering me to write a book.
(July 2019) Portland, Oregon - Tilikum Bridge Run
The vivid stories and poems you read on vehicledigest.net are developed at my most excruciating points of thought. I am not an athlete – but I put myself on uphill runs, trail jogs, cold, hot and rainy exercises to create meaningful passages through meditation.
First Budd dreamt the people wouldn’t be there to help; having the voice of my dead father’s advice repeating, “always go at it alone...”
My writing is as far as those words got. Today, I'm trusting the process of giving. After 8 months in the writing hole I'm showing off my promise. Delivering a dream only I could tell.
(August 2019) via Philadelphia, PA to Camden, NJ - Benjamin Franklin Bridge - Running With The Dream.
Connecting my world of words to the people I trust – it may start with a stranger; however, we are not strangers. What separates us is not knowing each other’s story. We have violence in our society which is a person’s choice. We have racism which is a result of a person’s reaction to colors – it’s their choice. Understanding what lies beneath the color of our skin we can connect the world with things we cannot see. That thing is love – rooted through a story we cannot see.
Can it start with you?
Someone I cannot see; but true.
Your name in my story – fulfill a little boy’s worry.