Chapter 27

Afterword When I first started posting novels on the Shousetsuka ni Narou website, I was forty-four years old, well past the typical age range of contributors. My first submission, How I Became King by Eating Monsters, barely got any traction, and I concluded the series feeling disappointed. Then in the year I turned forty-five, I wrote my second piece: Who Killed the Hero? This one got high praise from a lot of people and even landed me a book deal. (How I Became King by Eating Monsters also got a book offer from GC Novels around this time.) Since I was posting on a site called Shousetsuka ni Narou (“Let’s Become a Novelist”), I obviously wanted to be a novelist. But I didn’t want to be just any old novelist—I wanted to be a great one. Many people these days post their wish lists on the internet, writers included, but my list has just one thing: The Japan Booksellers’ Award. You know what I’m talking about, right? When my editor first read my afterword, they probably thought the same thing most of you reading this are thinking right now: Is this author an idiot? I’m an old fart who started writing novels at the ripe old age of forty-four—and in the light novel genre to boot. Winning an award like that is practically impossible. But the story I wrote is about that sort of impossibility. It’s about taking something on when other people say, “You can’t do that,” or “You can’t be that.” Perseverance in the face of ridicule. Expecting things of yourself, however humble those aspirations are. That sort of thing. Of course, I don’t believe my chances are zero. I have faith that I’ve crafted a story that can be enjoyed by people of any demographic. I think it’s something that booksellers can recommend to pretty much anybody, not just to avid book lovers but even to people who don’t normally read much. Thinking of it that way, is a literary prize really so far out of reach? Besides, if I don’t talk up my book, then I feel like it will just be written off as part of the light novel “genre.” If I don’t shout about it from the rooftops, it won’t be so much as considered. Even if this book doesn’t gain any traction, as long as I continue to write, I can always strive to be an amazing novelist worthy of a literary prize. I’m an old guy who lucked his way into becoming a novelist at forty-five, throwing a tantrum about wanting the Japan Booksellers’ Award. But what I can say is that even if I fail miserably at this goal, I don’t regret trying. After all, I’m living life just like the Hero.