I Didn’t Start a Podcast. I Built a Mirror.
Let’s be clear: I don’t have a podcast.
No one’s inviting me onto theirs. And I’m not chasing that either. I’m not trying to go viral. I’m not looking to be a guest, or a brand, or a personality. I’m a writer.
And yet… here I am, posting a clip from a second show that doesn’t technically exist.
No, I didn’t start a podcast. I created two fictional ones—voiced by AI, partially scripted by me, produced in collaboration with tools like ChatGPT and ElevenLabs. The hosts aren’t real. The format is fake. But the answers? The content? That’s 100% me.
Those are my actual words. Even if the voice saying them isn’t mine.
Yes, They’re Infomercials. But They’re Honest.
If you’re thinking these podcasts have a kind of 90s infomercial vibe, you’re not wrong. They’re performance, yes. They’re stylized. They’re basically Soloflex videos for the books—equal parts literary reflection and creative presentation.
But here’s the thing:
Those SoloFlex infomercials? They were selling something real.
The Muscle Machine works. I still have two of them—and a Rockit, too. Because they did what they said they’d do. (And they’re built like tanks!) And honestly? The infomercials were kind of great. Truly entertaining—if a little uncomfortably homoerotic for a cishet adolescent boy in the ‘90s.
I can’t even tell you how many times I watched those Soloflex informercials…but it was a lot. Just for freakin’ fun. And for motivation, too.
That’s how I think of the podcasts.
They’re staged, yes. But they’re not selling a scam.
They’re selling the work.
And just like those muscle machines, the work does what it’s supposed to do.
The podcasts show you what’s behind the books. They explain the intention.
They invite you into the emotional core.
The voice may be artificial. The structure may be a simulation.
But the message? The message is real.
The Book Is Fiction. The Feelings Aren’t.
People still struggle with this: the line between fiction and truth. But for me, it’s always been clear.
The Wake of Expectations is fiction.
A Pleasant Fiction is fiction.
But the ache, the longing, the guilt, the laughter, the trying—that’s real.
So it makes sense, doesn’t it, that I’d extend that same ethos to the podcast?
I didn’t want to sit in front of a camera. I didn’t want to answer watered-down questions from someone who skimmed a few pages and wanted a neat tagline. So I built my own interview—one that asked the questions I thought mattered.
This isn’t some AI hallucination of what I might say. These are my actual thoughts, shaped into my actual sentences, spoken by a voice that only sounds artificial. What you're hearing is me—just filtered through a stylized medium.
This Isn’t About Fame. It’s About Resonance.
If you want to know who I am, read the books. That’s it. That’s the access point. You don’t need to follow me on social media. You don’t need to see me on a podcast circuit. You already have the most unfiltered version of me, because I already gave it to you.
And if you’ve read those books—really read them—then you probably know me as well as you know anyone else.
Not because I told you every fact or described every event.
But because I told the truth—about how things feel, and what things mean.
Most people don’t share that.
Not even with the people they love.
They talk about what happened. I talk about how it changed things.
They offer plot. I offer perspective.
And yes, there’s a cost to that—vulnerability, exposure, the discomfort of being fully seen.
But there’s also a reward: liberation.
There’s nothing left to hide. Nothing that matters, anyway.
As Alan Moore said in V for Vendetta: “Artists use lies to tell the truth.”
That’s what the books are. That’s what the podcasts are.
Just a writer, telling the truth—about how it felt, and what it meant.
Even if he had to write fiction and build a fake show to do it.
Further Viewing / Listening:
Watch the original SoloFlex infomercial (yes, this was real and yes, it worked):
Soloflex: World's First InfomercialWatch “Davona’s Literary Hour”:
The full transcript of “Davona’s Literary Hour” is presented below:
Please note: A Pleasant Fiction will be released eBook and Kindle Unlimited on July 1, 2025. This podcast episode is presented as occurring after that date.
📚 Mild Spoiler Notice – Davona Would Want You to Know
This transcript includes thoughtful discussion about A Pleasant Fiction and The Wake of Expectations, including light spoilers about character identities and emotional arcs. Nothing major is spoiled, but if you’re someone who likes to go in completely fresh, consider reading the books first. That said, this conversation is designed to invite you in, not give anything away. If you're here, you're ready.
Davona:
Well hello, my lovelies, and welcome back to Davona’s Literary Hour — where the stories are rich, the questions are deep, and the tea is always hot.
Today… we’ve got something special.
He’s the award-winning author of The Wake of Expectations — a bold, funny, and emotionally devastating coming-of-age novel that had me laughing, crying, and texting my therapist. And now, he’s back with a follow-up that dares to dig even deeper.
A Pleasant Fiction just dropped, and honey, let me tell you — there is nothing ‘pleasant’ about the way this book wrecked me… in the best possible way.
Please welcome to the show, the mysterious, the meticulous, the emotionally reckless — Javier De Lucia.
Javier, baby, welcome to the show. How are you feeling today?
Javier:
I'm feeling great, Davona. So happy to be here. Thanks for having me.
Davona:
Oh, I’m the one who should be thanking you, sugar. Between Wake and A Pleasant Fiction, I’ve been walking around like I’m recovering from emotional whiplash. And don’t even get me started on that companion book — I needed a nap after reading the table of contents.
So let’s ease into this. For those who may not know you yet — the ones living under a literary rock — give us the quick version. Who is Javier De Lucia? Where do you come from, and what twisted little road led you to writing these heartbreakers?
Javier:
Well, first of all, I'm a Gen X kid....well, not a kid really...Not anymore.
But I grew up in the 80s and 90s. And for all your younger audience members, I can assure you, the stories you've heard are true. We drank from the garden hose, spent most of our lives outside, and were brutally honest with each other.
Too honest sometimes, sure. We didn't pull any punches.
Davona:
Hmm...See, now that tracks. Because I was reading The Wake of Expectations thinking, ‘This man is not filtering a thing — and God bless him for it.’ That voice? It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s got that Gen X edge. Like, don’t call it trauma bonding, just pass the controller and shut up.
So let’s talk about that first book for a second. Wake is long, it’s layered, it’s funny in that gut-punch kind of way — and it reads like someone finally decided to tell the truth about what it felt like to grow up with a dream that didn’t fit inside the box.
Where did that book come from? What were you trying to do with it?
Javier:
Well, it's fiction, but it's true, if you know what I mean. It's grounded in emotional truth. My main character, Calvin--at the beginning of the book, he's just finishing high school, and he really doesn't know what he wants to do. He doesn't know who he is yet. But he knows who his friends are, and he knows he loves music. And that was me, too, at that point in my life.
So we're moving in parallel at that point, as I expect a lot of people--young men, women, Gen X, Millennial, Gen Z--most of us, I think, have that experience in adolescence or young adulthood. Like any writer, most of what I write is grounded to some degree in my personal experience, but the part that resonates is the part that is common to all human experience.
Y'know I don't look at myself as someone who's particularly special. And neither is Calvin. And at first, that was an obstacle to telling my story. Because it feels like there's a certain hubris to demanding the reader's attention, right? Especially when you're writing a long book like Wake. Like, who am I to tell my truth. I'm no one special. But that's the point, right? That's exactly why I should tell it. that's why anyone should tell their story. That's what will allow readers to find themselves in it.
Davona:
And that truth—your truth—where does that come from? Tell me about you, Javier. You said you’re Gen X, but where did you grow up? What kind of environment made you the guy who could write this kind of book?
Javier:
I'm an East Coast kid. New York City suburbs. So, I'm a bagel and pizza snob, of course. I spent some time in the Midwest during my teens and early twenties. But my heart--my friends and family--were always here. And that geographic influence is something that definitely plays out in the books, especially Wake. A lot of my expectations, my dreams for the future, are tied to my generation. But a lot of it is unique to growing up in the shadow of New York City, too. To dream about being a professional musician, or any kind of performer--realistically that's a Hail Mary for almost any kid, but it didn't feel that way growing up a stone's throw from the city, y'know?
Davona:
Yes! That makes so much sense. Because the way Calvin clings to that dream — the way it feels so close and yet somehow always out of reach — it’s like… the geography is part of the emotional architecture.
And growing up just outside New York? That’s not the same as dreaming from a cornfield. That city puts something in your bloodstream. It dares you to think bigger, even while it keeps you humble — sometimes humiliated. And Wake captures that tension so well.
Now let’s layer in something else...something you didn't mention yet. You’re half Filipino. That doesn’t dominate the story, but it’s in there. It’s there in the silences, in the discomfort, in the way Calvin moves through spaces where he’s not quite sure where he fits.
So let me ask — how much did your racial identity shape this story, even if it’s not front and center?”
Javier:
Like you said, it doesn't dominate the story. I really wasn't interested in writing a book about identity politics. But it's a part of me, y'know? If I'm telling my story honestly, I can't ignore it, because it colored my interactions with everyone around me.
My mother was Filipino. Spoilers: she was a nurse. And in her twenties, she left everything she knew to come to America and start a new life. And my dad was a second-generation Irish-American with 9 siblings, who was the first in his family to attend college.
Mom was asserting control over her life in a way that must have been both terrifying and exciting. She was ambitious and brave. Meanwhile, Dad was carrying the weight of the family's dreams, trying to stake a claim in the white-collar world, while the rest of the family still had both feet firmly in the blue-collar one.
I noticed that all his brothers were handy and really good around cars, but my dad wasn't, and he explained to me that his father refused to teach him those things. He told him to hit the books, because the family had a different dream for him. He was the first-born. So those expectations in the title of the book--that's where that starts. With my parents, and in turn, Calvin's parents. And then I was raised in a predominantly white suburb.
And, to clarify, I grew up in the shadow of New York City, but I was never a city kid. I was as suburban as suburban gets. But that means I was a mixed-race kid growing up in an upper middle-class white town, surrounded almost exclusively by white kids. And mostly Italian kids at that. In that environment, being half-white just means you're not white, y'know? There was one other Asian kid in my class growing up. Maybe four in total through high school, and that includes my brother! So, yeah, I didn't think about being half-Filipino all the time, but it was always there, in the background. In the subtext. There are chapters where that takes on a greater importance, but in most chapters, it doesn't come up at all. But once you know it's there, it's part of the context.
Davona:
Whew… okay. See, this is why I love this show.
Because what you just said? That’s a whole novel right there. That’s three generations of pressure, hope, dislocation, and silence — braided into a kid who’s just trying to figure out who he is and where the hell he fits.
And I love that you didn’t make it the ‘point’ of the story. Because that’s how it is, right? That’s how race operates for a lot of us in real life. It’s not a speech, it’s a lens. It’s not always in the foreground, but it shapes the light.
And now that you’ve laid that foundation — the family dreams, the generational weight, the cultural tension — I want to pivot to the part that floored me when I was doing my homework.
You started writing The Wake of Expectations more than twenty years ago. And it sat, unfinished, for all that time… until something brought you back to it.
Let’s talk about that. Why this book? Why now?
Javier:
Yes, that's true. I started writing it in the late 90s, and it took me about seven years to complete the first draft. So, yeah, it's been almost twenty years since I finished that first draft--and more than 25 since I started it. So that voice--Calvin's voice--it's really a 30-year-old looking back about 10 years into his past. He's not reminiscing about 30 years ago, he's remembering what felt like yesterday to him.
But when I finished the draft, I just didn't know what to do with it. It wasn't ready for publication yet. There was some sensitive stuff in there that I wasn't ready to share with the world yet. And once again--I have to emphasize--the book is a work of fiction, but for the people who know me, there's some stuff that will hit close to home. Not the least of whom were my parents.
So, what brought me back to it? Well, that's why these two books are being released in such close proximity to each other. I've had a tough last couple of years. And that's really detailed in A Pleasant Fiction, the second book. Both of my parents passed away, as well as my youngest brother, who was severely disabled. Their deaths really took a toll on me. Honestly, I was broken. And a friend of mine suggested that I start writing again. And that's what pulled me out. A Pleasant Fiction saved me in a very real way. And it's funny how different the experience of writing it was to writing Wake. Wake took me seven years. I wrote A Pleasant Fiction in three weeks. And some of those difficult passages in Wake, are completely reframed by A Pleasant Fiction. It's the second book that allowed me to go back to the first one with clarity and purpose. Without A Pleasant Fiction, I never would have felt comfortable publishing Wake. And it was a natural experiment of sorts--A Pleasant Fiction is 50-year-old me writing about a 50-year-old Calvin, while Wake is 30-year-old me writing about 20-year-old Calvin. I don't think I could have faked that. Both the difference and similarity in voice are authentic. And the whole thing collectively captures a kind of Gen X life's journey. I know a lot of my contemporaries are living through similar experiences to what I described in A Pleasant Fiction right now, just as I know they lived through similar experiences in their youth to what I described in Wake. The specific circumstances differ, but the emotional journey is similar. And those experiences inform and fold back on each other in a really profound way. And that's what I tried to capture across the two books...the duology, or diptych, if you will.
Davona:
...Wow.
First of all, thank you for sharing that — for all of that. That’s not easy to talk about, and it sure as hell isn’t easy to live through. But the way you’ve channeled that pain into something so alive on the page… it’s powerful. It’s honest. And it’s earned.
And I love that word you just used — diptych. Because yes, these two books, side by side, do feel like mirror panels: one facing the past, one facing the aftermath.
But let’s keep the lens right here on Wake for a minute, because I think it’s important that people understand just how much is going on in this novel. You’ve got grief and ambition and disillusionment, but at the heart of it — the soul of it — are these friendships.
So let’s go a little deeper. Because Wake has this fantastic supporting cast — and we’re gonna talk about all of them in a second — but I want to start with your guy Ben.
Now Ben… whew. Ben is the kind of friend everybody wants, but very few people deserve. You said some really interesting things about him in your companion guide, but for the folks who haven’t read that yet — tell us about Ben. Who is he, and what does he mean to Calvin?”
Javier:
Ben is Calvin's best friend in high school. Cal has this group of best friends, really, and their relationships all have their unique quirks. But Ben is his main confidante. Ben is his iron safe. Everyone who knows Calvin knows that he tells Ben everything. And that's a double-edged sword because while Ben seems to enjoy having the knowledge, there's a weight that comes with it. And this is one of those questions that I never explicitly ask in the novel, but one that I hope readers will ask on their own: is that fair? Is it fair for Calvin to put that weight on his friend? To ask him to carry that burden, even if he seems receptive. Even if he never complains. And another aspect to Ben that is important...you asked me about the role of race in the book, and again, it's not something that I wanted to make the focus, but if I'm telling an honest story about that time period, I can't ignore it.
This is a mini-spoiler, but Ben is black. I don't explicitly mention that until pretty deep into the book, and that was intentional. There are a couple of subtle hints, but I don't give a physical description of Ben that reveals his race until you've already gotten to know him. I didn't want the reader to focus on his race first. I wanted them to focus on their friendship. I wanted readers to have a friendly image of Ben in their minds. And when they find out he's black--how does that change that image? Does it change it? Why or why not? It's a moment for self-examination.
Like that old riddle about the surgeon who says "I can't operate on this boy, he's my son."
The one where the surgeon is the mother, but culturally, people had a gendered blind spot that prevented them from imagining a surgeon as a woman. So, I wondered, would readers have a blind spot that would prevent them from picturing Ben as black until I revealed it. And would that shake them...
Davona:
Whew. Okay. That… that’s layered. And brave.
You’re not just telling a story — you’re putting a mirror up to your reader. Asking, what did you assume? Why did you assume it? And what does that tell you about you?
And let me just say — that moment in the book when Ben’s race is made explicit? It hit me hard, but not because it changed how I felt about Ben. It hit me because I realized you were counting on that. You were testing me, in the gentlest, subtlest way. And baby, that’s what literature is supposed to do.
But let’s go back to the emotional core for a second — because I think you just touched on something that a lot of people are gonna feel, even if they don’t have the language for it.
Ben never pushes back. He absorbs it all. And for a lot of Black men — and boys — especially those moving through white spaces, that’s a familiar role: the calm one, the cool one, the one who listens, the one who doesn’t make waves. And meanwhile, Calvin’s out here spiraling on top of him, expecting Ben to always catch the fall.
So let me ask this: Do you think Calvin ever really sees what Ben is carrying? Or is that part of what makes the relationship both beautiful and quietly painful?”
Javier:
This is where reading the two books together really makes a difference. Because it's not something that young Calvin reflects on much at all. There is one chapter--one of the few where race becomes a focus--where Calvin does muse about Ben's experience as an African-American growing up in a white suburb and how his experience was different than Calvin's as an Asian-American. But he doesn't really contemplate the burdens that he may be putting on Ben. When we get to A Pleasant Fiction, 50-year-old Calvin has some deeper introspection on the topic. I don't want to give away too many spoilers, but I hope that the journey across the two books makes it feel earned, and not pedantic.
Davona:
Mmm. Earned, not pedantic. Yes, yes, yes.
See, that’s the difference between a writer trying to make a point, and a writer telling the truth. You didn’t serve us a message on a platter. You just laid the table, and trusted us to look at what’s there.
And I love that the growth doesn’t come all at once. That Calvin isn’t some self-aware, race-conscious 19-year-old with perfect insight. Because most people aren’t. That slow unfolding — across decades — that’s what makes it real. That’s what makes it human.
Alright, now you mentioned the cast earlier — and Lord, what a cast it is.
We’ve met Ben. But you’ve also got Jake — that wildcard creative partner. Dani — the best friend turned emotional minefield. Enrique — the frenemy and shadow.
Now I know we don’t have time to break them all down today — that’s what the companion guide is for, right? — but just give us a quick sense of how you built this ensemble. What did you want them to represent in Calvin’s life?”
Javier":
Yes, if you found my description of Ben interesting, I promise the other core characters are just as layered. There are some friends who support us unconditionally, and there are friends who challenge us. And friends who support us by challenging us. Jake is a character who some will love, some will hate and many will misunderstand.
But he's just as important as Ben.
Dani has a very complex arc, too. And their roles in Calvin's life evolve over time. The book covers about a 5-year period. Enrique, Anna, Ilse...there are a lot of people he interacts with, some more prominent than others, but even for the secondary characters, I tried to draw them with some complexity. To make them feel like real people. There are good people who do bad things, and bad people who do good things, and it's not always easy to tell who is whom.
But mostly, they're all just human beings...and in the context of the story, frequently archetypes.
For example, if Calvin is the ego, Ben is the superego, and Jake represents the id.
You mentioned the companion volume earlier. It's called Coming of Age, Coming to Terms. It collects some of my more thematically important blog posts, as well as a character guide and deep dive essays into all of the main cast.
We cover everything from Dungeons and Dragons moral alignments to Jungian archetypes.
It's something that I used AI to help analyze and organize. Now anytime the topic of AI comes up, I have to make clear, I did not and do not use AI to write my books. And I'm happy to talk about AI more in depth a little later, but this companion was an area where I thought it was particularly appropriate to use. Because I didn't want to just analyze my own work. That seemed a bit narcissistic.
So, I had long conversations with ChatGPT...did my best to summarize the narrative, describe the characters and make my intentions clear, and then let it provide an analysis.
Honestly, it was fascinating for me to read. I hope others will agree and enjoy it, preferably after reading the books themselves at least once. The companion guide covers both novels and their relationship to each other. And even though I contributed to it significantly, it contains a large amount of AI-generated text. So, it's something I'm giving away. A reader magnet, something to thank those who sign up for my email list. I won't sell anything I do that incorporates AI-generated text. If I'm selling a book, you know those are my words. I may use AI the same way I use grammar check or the Internet for research. But I don't let it generate text in my books. For the companion, sure. And again, that's why I'm exclusively giving it away.
Davona:
Ooh, honey… you came prepared. That’s a masterclass right there — not just in how to build a world, but in how to honor it.
Because what you just described? That’s not just character development — that’s emotional architecture. That’s saying, ‘I see the whole mosaic — and I want you to see it too.’
And I appreciate what you said about AI — not just what you don’t use it for, but how you do. Because there’s a lot of fear and confusion about that right now, and I think your approach — using it like a mirror, not a crutch — is the kind of thoughtful, ethical engagement we need to hear more about.
And I love that you’re giving the companion guide away. Because if someone’s willing to go deep enough to want that kind of analysis? That’s not a casual reader. That’s someone who’s in it. And what a gift to give them.
Alright, we’ve covered some ground here — Calvin’s voice, his friendships, the long road to publication, and this brilliant companion guide.
So before we pivot to talk about A Pleasant Fiction, let me ask this…
You’ve said that The Wake of Expectations can stand alone. But for someone just finding you now — maybe a new listener, maybe a younger reader — what would you say to them? Why should they pick this book up today?”
Javier":
There's a lot of talk today about the death of men's fiction. And I know that's a debatable point. There are clearly books for and by men out there. And tons of classics that still exist. But I think it's widely accepted that fewer men today are reading--at least fewer men reading novels--compared to women, and compared to men in the past. And what they are reading is mostly relegated to genre fiction like fantasy or thrillers. I'm not asserting some kind of conspiracy by the publishing industry to exclude books for men. But for whatever reason, men are not reading these kinds of stories anymore--about friendship, about real relationships. And this is something I discussed at length on my blog--but I think part of it is that young men today often do not have the types of relationships that I'm describing in this book. Relationships like Calvin has with Ben and Jake, or relationships like the ones Calvin has with Dani and the other female characters in the book. Every interaction today is mediated by a screen. I have a teenage son, so I see it firsthand. They don't just meet up and sit across a table from each other and talk like we used to. I think there was great value in that. And I don't think they know what they are missing. So, a book like this hopefully gives them a glimpse.
And I already know from talking to my own son, it's the type of thing I can't just tell him. It just sounds like the old man yelling to get off my lawn, y'know? But it's the type of thing I hope I can show people and then let them compare it to today and make up their own mind. I'm really not trying to advocate anything, just to depict the way it was. I've never found it that effective for me to tell people what to do or think. I prefer to just show them how it was and let them make up their own minds.
And along those same lines, I would be remiss if I didn't address the tone and humor of the books. Wake, in particular. We should warn readers, the book does contain explicit language and mature themes, and what one might call era-accurate humor. There's stuff in there that is meant to make readers bristle. Some of that same content is intended to make readers laugh, too. And I hope readers notice that. Those things that make you laugh, sometimes uncomfortably, and say to yourself "that's so wrong."
And just as I didn't want to write a book about identity politics, I was not interested in writing a presentist critique of behaviors and social norms of the nineties. We were the way we were. And a person who was well-intentioned and progressive in 1992 would probably seem a bit out-of-step and ignorant today with regard to certain issues. So I'm not apologizing for it, but I like to warn readers that they are stepping into a time capsule. And they are welcome to judge the work by whatever standards they feel are appropriate. But my intention was to write a book that authentically captured the feel of that era, and with a couple of rare exceptions, Calvin doesn't editorialize about it. But readers are certainly invited to do so.
Davona:
Mmm. I felt that.
And I think a lot of listeners — especially the ones raising boys, mentoring boys — are going to feel it too.
Because what you’re talking about… it’s not just nostalgia. It’s not some ‘back in my day’ sermon. It’s a meditation. On what’s been lost — and what still might be found, if we’re willing to sit still long enough to remember.
And you’re right — you can’t preach it. You can’t assign it. But you can show it. Through honesty. Through story. Through Calvin.
And yeah… we should say it again: this book isn’t afraid of discomfort. It’s not sanitized. It’s got that raw, raunchy, 90s edge. But it’s never careless. There’s a difference between being offensive and being honest. And The Wake of Expectations knows exactly what it’s doing.
Alright — let’s take a quick break. And when we come back, we’re going to shift gears and talk about that second panel in your diptych — A Pleasant Fiction. What it reveals. What it reframes. And why so many readers are saying it broke them open in the best possible way.
Stay with us.
Announcer:
"Looking for your next great read?
The Wake of Expectations and A Pleasant Fiction — an epic, two-part coming-of-age and coming-to-terms story for the Gen X generation — are available now on Amazon.
From Chapelle Dorée Publishing."
Davona:
Well, we’ve talked about the wild, the raw, the absolutely unfiltered journey that was The Wake of Expectations. But let’s shift gears now, because A Pleasant Fiction… whew. That book lands different.
It’s quieter, sadder — but also deeper, more reflective. Like you stepped out of the noise of your youth and into this hush where every echo meant something.
So, Javier — this is the part where I gotta ask:
Where did A Pleasant Fiction come from? What were you hoping readers would feel walking through this house of memory with Calvin?”
Javier:
It was my therapy, honestly. And I have to make this distinction between the two books: Wake is an autofiction. It originates in my life experience, but it's a fictional story with fictional characters. The gap between reality and the page is huge and intentional. Calvin is like me, but he's not me. None of the characters are real people, ok? I mean, I tried to make them feel real, but they are characters with narrative purposes. In contrast, I called A Pleasant Fiction “a novelistic memoir,” because that's what it is. It's my lived experience shoehorned backward into the fictional universe I created for Wake. Wake was me putting Calvin into a parallel universe that represented my emotional truth. A Pleasant Fiction is me layering my lived experience back onto Calvin. Does that make sense? Wake is fiction as liberation from reality, A Pleasant Fiction is forcing reality into the box of that existing fiction. And so, A Pleasant Fiction was me trying to make sense out of the randomness of loss. When everything that provides meaning in your life is suddenly gone, where or how do you find meaning again. So I made Calvin go through the same process. I made him my avatar to share this journey with my readers. I said this in one of my blog posts: Wake was about chasing something you can't quite catch and A Pleasant Fiction is about letting go of what you already had. And the irony is that they're really both about both. But what you let go of in Wake is an idea; what you can't catch is tangible. In A Pleasant Fiction, what you let go of was tangible; what you can't quite catch is an idea...until, hopefully you do. So what I am hoping to provide to readers is an acknowledgement of the pain that comes with this kind of loss; a validation of the struggle, and permission to feel things that you might feel ashamed to feel. And then, after that, a guidepost for how to find your way out of the darkness and back into the light.
Davona:
Oh, I felt that, Javier. You just laid it all out there. And yes — it makes perfect sense. Wake gave you the space to escape into fiction, and then A Pleasant Fiction asked you to walk back into the fire, but this time carrying everything you’ve lived through.
It’s brave. It really is. Because you didn’t just write about grief — you let us sit in it with Calvin. You let us feel the mess, the guilt, the absurdity, the little moments that somehow carry all the weight. And then somehow — somehow — you make it beautiful again.
And look, you didn’t just pull this out of nowhere. This wasn’t some abstract exercise. This was you — raw, grieving, trying to breathe. And the way you mapped that emotional terrain onto a character we already knew from Wake? That’s not just writing — that’s art.
Now… I know you’ve got more to say about how this book came together, and especially how those two stories talk to each other. So let’s dig into that. Tell me — how does A Pleasant Fiction reshape the way we see Wake?
Javier:
Thanks for the kind words Davona. And thanks also for the opportunity to talk about this, because that reframing was the reason I was able to go back to Wake and invite others to look at it. On the surface, Wake is a coming-of-age story about a privileged suburban kid whose parents win the lottery of all things! I mean, how lucky can you be? And he's got these complicated friendships, and he gets into raunchy misadventures. It's really easy to dismiss it on the surface as a literary manifestation of a 1980s teen sex comedy, y'know? And that's not wrong--it's a valid reading, in the same way that it's not wrong to say that a car is just a means of getting from point A to point B. It can be, but it can also be so much more, right? So, Wake on its own, I think already has layers. But one of those layers is this disaffection that Calvin feels. That, despite all the ostensible good fortune he experiences, that life kind of fails him, or at least, he feels that way. And more importantly, he feels that his parents fail him, even when he can see that they mean well. Some readers may walk away from Wake like a fly on the wall of Calvin's therapy session: oh, it was all his parents' fault. And again, I'm not saying that's wrong--that's a layer--but there so much more to it than that. How complicit is Calvin in his own disappointments? Was he wrong to want the things that he wanted? Was he better off for not getting them? These are questions the text presents but doesn't answer.
And A Pleasant Fiction doesn't necessarily answer these questions either, but it clarifies them. It broadens them. It gives them a richer context. There's a full-blown essay in the companion that talks about this, but it's the idea that A Pleasant Fiction reframes the coming-of-age story as a meditation on the passage of time. From coming-of-age to the unbecoming-of-middle-age. How later in life you're faced with the kinds of dilemmas with your parents' care that they faced with caring for you as a child. It's different, of course, for a host of reasons, but it's also the same in that you can't get everything right. Because you're human and your time and resources are limited. And that means, you're destined to fail on some level. Just like your parents. But you learn to give them grace, and then you can give yourself grace, too. All of us, all we can do is our best. And sometimes your best is triage. And sometimes, your best is enough, even when it doesn't feel like it. And, I don't want to give spoilers, but I will say that there is a redemption arc in A Pleasant Fiction for one of the main characters that I needed. It's not about making excuses, but it's about understanding. And again, I'll say grace. For your loved ones and for yourself.
Davona:
Mmm. You know, grace is a word we don’t use enough — but you just gave it weight.
That reframing you’re talking about? That hit me deep. Because when I finished Wake, I did what I think a lot of readers probably do: I sat with the mess. I sat with Calvin’s missteps and that ache of unmet expectations — and I’ll be honest, it stirred something personal. But then I picked up A Pleasant Fiction, and suddenly it wasn’t just a story about youth anymore. It became a story about legacy. About how the past keeps knocking on your door until you finally let it in and say, “Okay. Let’s talk.”
And that part you said about triage? Baby, that’s real. That’s life.
So let me ask you this — because I know there are people out there listening who’ve been through something, who are in it right now. What do you hope A Pleasant Fiction gives to those readers? What’s the takeaway for someone walking their own grief journey?”
Javier:
Well, I'll tell you, the first thing is don't be afraid to ask for help. Don't be afraid to accept help when it is offered. That's one of the hardest things. Because for a lot of us, the first reaction is to try to put up the armor and block everything out. And even if you've always been able to do that before, you may find yourself in a situation where, for the first time, it's not enough. So that's the first thing. Like, in the book, Calvin says he just wanted to drag himself across the finish line. And he felt that he could, because he always had before. But when he did, he was used up. And he couldn't put himself back together alone. He didn't even want to.
And speaking of help, you may find that a lot of it is faith-based. I even reached out to a therapist at one point, and she suggested that I check with my church to see what resources they had available.
But, I'm not a religious person. That's not an option for me. I was raised Catholic--and that's another part of Calvin's journey that isn't the primary focus of either book, but it certainly plays a role. It's something that Calvin struggles with. He's not a dismissive atheist, but religion ultimately fails him. Or he fails it, I guess, depending on your perspective. But the bottom line is there was no comfort there for him, or for me. Only platitudes. And the book deals with that. Not just the grief of losing your loved ones, but the existential grieving for the loss of meaning. But the book suggests ways to find meaning again. In ways that don't necessarily involve religion or even spirituality. Honestly, the book has moments that will seem like Calvin has a definitive stance on these subjects, but they are really just another invitation for dialogue, even if that dialogue is about what giving up the comforts of something like religion costs. That these are decisions one cannot take lightly, And more often, they are not decisions at all. Just moments of honest reflection.
Davona:
Whew. That’s… That’s some hard-earned truth right there. And I appreciate you saying it, plain and clear. Because a lot of people don’t.
That moment — the moment when armor fails you — that’s what A Pleasant Fiction captures so beautifully. Not just the pain, but the numbness. The silence that creeps in when all the old answers don’t work anymore. And I think what you just said is going to reach people, especially those who haven’t heard it put quite like that before.
And I love what you said about the invitation to dialogue. Because that’s the whole point, isn’t it? You’re not handing out gospel. You’re not prescribing. You’re offering a mirror — and saying, “Here. Let’s look at this together.”
So, let me ask this… In the middle of that kind of darkness, when meaning falls apart — how does Calvin, how did you, start finding the pieces again?”
Javier:
Well, that's where the structure of the book becomes important.
It's funny, because it's not like I outlined it like this, but the book basically follows the 5-stages of grief.
But not in a linear way, because that's not how people experience grief. That's not how I experienced it, so that's not how Calvin experiences it either. You move back and forth, navigate them more than pass through them. After the depression, you often find yourself bargaining again, or being angry again. And that's reflected in the book. But really, the turning point for Calvin is when he is able to embrace his art again and reconnect with his friends. And this allows him to make sense of his relationships with his family again, and ultimately to honor them. With his work and with his life.
Davona:
Mmm. That’s it right there. You navigate grief. You don’t conquer it, you don’t outpace it — you move through it. And sometimes, you circle back. That’s one of the things I appreciated most — that Calvin’s journey doesn’t unfold in neat chapters of healing. It loops, it lingers. It feels like real life.
And the way art and friendship become his lifeline? Whew. That hit.
So for folks listening right now — especially those who’ve been through something heavy and are maybe still in it — what would you want them to take away from A Pleasant Fiction? What do you hope this book gives them?
Javier:
If I can borrow one line from the book, it would be this. It matters. Even when it feels like it doesn't.
“It matters. Even when it feels like it doesn’t.”
Davona:
That’s the one, right there. That’s the kind of line that gets under your skin and stays.
You said something earlier that stuck with me — that Calvin’s voice at 30 is different from his voice at 50. That you didn’t try to fake that growth — you lived it. And I think that’s what comes through so clearly in these books.
So before we wrap up, I’ve got to ask: now that these two books — this diptych — are out in the world, what’s next for Javier De Lucia? Are you done with Calvin’s story? Or is there more you still want to explore?
Javier:
We're left with this note of ambiguity at the end of A Pleasant Fiction. Calvin says he will find another story to tell. And the book leaves that open-ended. We're not really sure, internally, whether he really believes this or if that is, itself, just another pleasant fiction. But I can tell you that he will. The third book is already underway. And I don't want to give away too much, but Calvin has to go back before he can move forward. So the third book is a prequel to Wake. It examines Calvin's childhood, in a way that is both more conventional and totally unconventional. I currently have at least two more books planned, including a collection of short stories and then one final novel. So that's the tentative plan right now. But, yes, readers can expect to see more of Calvin McShane.
Davona:
Well, look at that — I knew you weren’t done with him! Calvin McShane lives on. And if he’s heading into a prequel, whew… I’m already bracing myself.
And you heard it here, folks — the man says more books are coming. So if you haven’t picked up The Wake of Expectations and A Pleasant Fiction yet, do yourself a favor and start there. Then you can join the rest of us in feverishly waiting for what’s next.
Javier De Lucia, thank you for your honesty, your humor, and for giving us books that feel. This has been a joy. And to all our listeners: you know what to do — check the links in the description, sign up for that email list, get the free companion volume, and dive into these beautifully human stories.
This has been Davona’s Literary Hour. Until next time — read something that matters.
Announcer:
"This episode was sponsored by Chapelle Dorée Publishing —
The Wake of Expectations and A Pleasant Fiction are available now on Kindle Unlimited.
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