Passion over Gemstones

The truth is, this journey didn’t start with the lockdown. I had been working on a comprehensive book about gemstones since November 14, 2019. By the time the pandemic shifted reality on its axis, I had already been immersed in the world of lapidary for what felt like an eternity.

As the months dragged on, the gravity of the global crisis settled in. Millions of people were dying in the pandemic, and a sobering, existential thought crept into my mind: more people were likely to pass away before I could ever finish this massive work. Time was a luxury no one was guaranteed.

Pivoting Under the Pressure of Time

Two years slipped away. The initial peak of the pandemic passed, yet my sprawling manuscript remained unfinished. The sheer scale of trying to cover all gemstones was paralyzing, forcing me to radically reconsider what I was doing. I realized that if I ever wanted this knowledge to see the light of day, I needed to adapt—perhaps by publishing just a single, focused section of the grander work.

Still, doubt plagued me. Won’t it be a tragic waste to discard or endlessly delay what I have already poured my soul into?

On April 25, 2022, I found my answer and decided to narrow my scope exclusively to the April birthstone: the diamond.

Yet, I had underestimated the king of gems. Diamond alone is a staggering, extensive subject that traditionally comprises half of most lapidary or gemstone textbooks. I managed to pen chapters covering diamond colors, chemical compositions, and complex origin theories. But looking at the mountain of data, I saw the truth: properly finishing these subjects would demand years of additional research, and two years had already vanished.

I needed to cut deeper. On September 4, 2024, I made the final, definitive pivot: I would focus solely on the art and history of diamond cuts.

The Weight of Loss

Even with a narrowed focus, the work was grueling. Just polishing the existing sections on various facet arrangements and historical cuts took months of meticulous editing. And then, life intervened in the most painful way possible.

My father suffered a stroke. Suddenly, my writing desk shifted to a hospital room. I found myself revising manuscript pages by his bedside, juggling the emotional weight of his illness with the practical demands of my job as a tour guide. I was actively preparing for an upcoming tour, caught in a dizzying blur of hospital shifts and professional obligations. The breaking point came swiftly. It was right after returning home from guiding a tour that I received the devastating news: my father had passed away.

Coming to terms with his death was infinitely harder than I ever imagined it would be.

​In the quiet, heavy days of early grief, my mind kept drifting back to a specific memory of him. My father always knew his son was an aspiring writer. I vividly remember him picking up a novel I had brought along, turning it over in his hands and examining it intently, as though quietly checking to see if it was finally his son’s published book. He had been waiting to see my dream materialized.

The Final Facet

In the months that followed my father’s passing, the book became both my anchor and my tribute. I poured my grief into the final stages of production—editing the text, completing the intricate illustrations, and cross-checking the extensive endnotes and bibliography.

Today, the long journey from that locked-down rooftop to publication is finally complete.

My book, 80 Diamond Cuts, is done and published. It is a curated exploration of lapidary artistry, born out of global uncertainty, refined through rigorous study, and finished in memory of a life lost. Thank you for being part of this journey.

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