Why I Wrote a Book That Doesn’t Want to Teach You Anything

Stories don’t always come with answers — sometimes they just sit with you in the dark.

When I started writing The Unwritten Doctrine, I didn’t have a lesson to teach. I wasn’t trying to fix the world or hand out life advice in paperback form. I was simply tired — tired of reading books that treated readers like patients and authors like therapists.

What I wanted instead was space.

Space for silence.

Space for contradictions.

Space for a man to break quietly in a hotel room far from home, without a narrator rushing in to explain what it means.

This book was never meant to be a doctrine. And yet, ironically, here we are.

It’s a story about searching — and worse, what happens when you stop. About cults that don’t look like cults. About conversations that change nothing, but refuse to be forgotten. It’s satire dressed as sincerity, or maybe sincerity hiding behind satire — even I’m not sure anymore.

If you're someone who reads between the lines and finds nothing there — congratulations. You’re my kind of reader.

Let’s keep each other company in this beautifully absurd little corner of the world.