Writing for the Universe: Reflections on Dragon Warriors of Tzoulton

When I sat down to write my first book, Dragon Warriors of Tzoulton, I never thought much about sales charts, bestseller lists, or five-star reviews. It wasn’t a business venture or some perfectly tuned marketing experiment, it was just a story I couldn’t get out of my head until I put it down into words.

That’s the real truth of writing, or really any creative endeavor. You do it for creativity’s sake, not for financial success. And while we live in a world where a thumbs-up emoji or a quick star rating seems to carry more weight than thoughtful critique, allowing those little symbols to control us is dangerous. I’m convinced those few icons can sway entire crowds of people, when in reality, they mean almost nothing to the core purpose of why artists create.

The Life and Death of My First Book

Dragon Warriors of Tzoulton came out with quiet expectations. The first review I received was three stars. That star became an anchor, pulling the book into obscurity, and honestly, it made me hesitant to write more. It’s a strange thing to see months of work, nights spent scribbling ideas after my day job, and bursts of inspiration vanish into a void.

But here is what I’ve realized: the work is its own success. The simple fact that the story wanted to be told, and that I gave it form, is reason enough.

Could I churn out an AI-made PDF promising instant riches, slap a price on it, and watch it sell? Probably. People love easy solutions. But that wouldn’t serve my purpose. It wouldn’t give the stories in my head a voice. The fun part for me is when an idea, a character, or even a line of dialogue shadows me through the day until I can rush home and write it down. If I don’t write them down, eventually, I fear they’ll stop coming.

That’s the true reason to create, not for gain, but so the universe keeps talking to you.

The Roots of Tzoulton: History and Reimagining

Dragon Warriors of Tzoulton is a reimagining of the story of Quetzalcoatl and the Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire. Historically, Quetzalcoatl, whose name means “Feathered Serpent,” was a god of wind, wisdom, and civilization for the Aztec people. When Hernán Cortés and his European invaders arrived in the early 1500s, some interpretations suggest the Aztecs believed he might be Quetzalcoatl returning, fulfilling a prophecy.

The Spanish, led by greed, demanded gold from the people, claiming they would spare their king, Montezuma II, if they complied. The people surrendered treasures beyond measure, yet in the end, the king was killed anyway, and their world was torn apart.

My book doesn’t follow this exact historical account. Instead, I shifted the focus away from kings and conquerors to center on the ordinary people, those who had to gather up their lifeblood in gold just to see their leader betrayed. I introduced The Watchers, a selfless secret group trying to guide and preserve humanity. Some early readers doubted such a group could exist without hidden motives. But my answer is simple: how else do we still survive as a species if not for people behind the scenes, quiet, often invisible, who seek to help during times of crisis?

Alternate Paths and New Stories

Since then, I’ve gone on to publish two more books, and both, in their own way, are reimaginings too.

• Alternate Endings grew out of my habit of hearing true crime stories and asking, What if one small thing happened differently? Could the victim have escaped? Could the universe have tilted just enough to step in on their behalf? I love writing that moment when a doomed person suddenly finds courage, or when fate provides an intervention, and the predator suddenly realizes their evil plan is falling apart.
  
  

• The Unsolved Case Files of Eli Mercer takes the flipside: real cases that never found resolution. Why were these crimes left unresolved? Why did victims never find justice? Into this world, I introduced Eli Mercer, an AI detective with a noir sensibility. He strips away lies, dramatizations, and speculation to arrive at the “most likely” conclusion. This voice allowed me to blend logic and character, showing not only what may have happened but why justice still matters.
  
  

Though the books differ in tone, one is imagination’s gift of hope, the other a rational attempt to bring order to long-cold chaos, they’re both about hope. Hope that we can tell better stories, hope that victims can be honored, hope that truth still has a place.

Why We Must Keep Creating

So here is my message to anyone out there with a story nagging at them: write it. Don’t weigh success with dollar signs or Amazon rankings. Don’t let a stray star rating smother your voice.

Do it so that the universe keeps whispering stories to you. Do it so that you never find yourself asking one day, “What would have happened if I tried?”

Success isn’t measured by what you get out of something. Success is what you put into it, how fully you let the idea live, how courageously you set it free.

And sometimes, that act alone, that defiant spark of creation in the void, is the one victory that matters.