His mom published a book a few years ago.

He watched that happen. He saw the process, the finished product, the fact of it existing in the world. And then, the way he does things, he decided he could do it too.

He came to me with a completed book. “Fortnite Tips for Noobs, From a Pro.” He had the title. He had the byline. He had eleven tips, one per page, written out in his own handwriting, which has never come easily. Physically putting words on a page has always been hard for him. He did it anyway.

He had drawn the cover himself. I digitized it so we could make a proper PDF alongside the handmade version. Then I typed the tips into a file, formatted it, and printed it. We stapled the pages together so it looked like an assembled book. He was so proud of it.

It’s in the keepsakes box now.

The tips are exactly what you’d expect from someone who has logged more hours in Fortnite than I can calculate. Practical. Specific. Occasionally authoritative in a way that makes you smile.

Download the game. It is free to play on any device. I recommend a controller.

Find a safe place to land on the map.

The storm is dangerous. Do not go to the purple storm or you die.

The weapons go from gray, green, blue, purple, and gold. Gold is the best type you can get.

If you start, don’t worry about kills yet because they might be sweats.

Have fun is the most important thing.

He knows things. He wanted someone else to know them too.

After that came the letters. He wrote to his favorite hockey and baseball teams with tips on how they could improve. I told him I’d send them, so I did. I included a letter giving the teams some context about who was writing to them. We never got a response. But before I sent anything I scanned every page so we’d have a copy. I took what he made seriously because it was serious. He made it, it deserved to exist, and someone should have it.

He’s been working on a Rocket League tips book too. Same impulse, different game. The expert sharing what he knows with whoever needs it.

I’ve been working on a memoir. Twelve years of this life, assembled into something I hope someone will want to read. When I think about what made him sit down and write eleven tips for strangers who hadn’t found the game yet, I think I understand the impulse. You know something. You want someone else to know it too. The form doesn’t matter as much as the fact of it.

Reading has always been hard for him. Comprehension, sequencing, holding a narrative across pages. And yet he makes books. He has things to say and he finds a way to say them and he puts them into the world without asking whether anyone wants to hear it.

He already knows they do.