By Don Carlos Lee Gibson Jr, Marietta, OH
Why I Started Writing
Nobody woke up asking for this book. No publisher reached out. No agent called. I didn’t have a platform or a waiting audience. I had a story, a lot of years behind me, and a growing sense that the things I’d learned the hard way might help someone else avoid a few of the harder lessons.
So I started writing.
The process taught me more than I expected. Not just about structure or storytelling, but about why we tell our stories in the first place and what happens when you commit to finishing something that exists only because you decided it should.
What the Book Is Really About
This isn’t a memoir in the traditional sense. It’s not a step-by-step guide or a motivational handbook. It’s a book about stewardship, leadership, service, and the experiences that shaped how I think about all three.
I’ve worked in golf operations, automotive management, resort leadership, and military intelligence. I’ve managed teams, turned around struggling operations, and rebuilt after failure. The book pulls from all of that, but the through line is simpler: how do we lead well when the people and systems we manage are not ours to own, but ours to care for?
Stewardship is the word I keep coming back to. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t promise shortcuts. But it’s the mindset that has guided every role I’ve held and every decision I’ve tried to get right.
The Hardest Part Was Deciding What to Leave In
Writing a book forces you to choose. You can’t include every lesson, every job, every person who mattered. You have to decide what the reader needs and what you’re trying to say.
I rewrote the first three chapters more times than I can count. I kept trying to explain everything up front, to justify why I was the right person to write this. Eventually I realized that wasn’t the job. The job was to say something true and useful, and let the work speak for itself.
The sections that came easiest were the ones that dealt with failure. Not because I enjoy revisiting those moments, but because they’re the ones that taught me the most. Success is harder to write about. It can sound like bragging or luck, and it’s harder to extract the lesson. Failure is clarifying. You know exactly what went wrong and what you’d do differently.
Why I’m Not Waiting for Perfect
The book is scheduled to release around July 4th. It’s not perfect. There are sections I’ll probably wish I’d rewritten the day after it goes out. But I’ve learned that waiting for perfect is just another way of not finishing.
I’ve seen too many people sit on their ideas because they’re not sure it’s ready, or they’re not sure anyone will care, or they’re not sure they have the authority to say it. I’m not sure of any of those things either. But I know the book is better out in the world than it is sitting on my laptop.
What I Hope It Does
I hope it reaches someone who’s trying to figure out how to lead when they don’t have all the answers. Someone who’s managing a team for the first time, or stepping into a role they’re not entirely sure they’re ready for, or trying to rebuild after something didn’t go the way they planned.
I hope it gives them a framework that’s practical, not theoretical. One that says leadership isn’t about being the loudest voice in the room or having all the credentials. It’s about showing up, serving the people and systems you’re responsible for, and doing the work even when no one’s watching.
What Writing It Taught Me
Writing this book reminded me that our experiences matter. Not because they’re unique or dramatic, but because they’re ours. The lessons we’ve learned, the mistakes we’ve made, the moments that changed how we think—those are worth sharing, even if we’re not sure anyone’s listening yet.
It also taught me that finishing is a skill. Starting is easy. Everyone starts. But seeing something through, especially when it’s hard and no one’s asking for it, is what separates the people who talk about doing something from the people who actually do it.
I built a website before the book was done. I started talking about it before I had a release date. I didn’t wait until I felt ready, because I knew I’d never feel ready. I just started moving.
What Comes Next
The book is coming. I’m proud of it. I’m nervous about it. I’m ready for people to read it and decide for themselves if it’s worth their time.
But more than anything, I’m grateful I wrote it. Not because I think it’s going to change the world, but because it changed me. It forced me to look back, make sense of the years, and put words to the things I believe about leadership, service, and what it means to do work that matters.
If you’ve been sitting on something—an idea, a project, a story you think might help someone—I hope this encourages you to start. You don’t need permission. You don’t need a platform. You just need to decide it’s worth doing, and then do it.