The First Dive Otter Book Is Coming!
A few days ago I submitted my first book, First Breath: An Honest Introduction to Recreational Scuba, for printing and distribution. That does not mean the book is available yet. Submitting it simply begins the production process. Proof copies will be generated, those will need to be reviewed, and only after that step will the book move into printing and stocking. Even so, pressing the final submit button still felt like a meaningful moment.
For the past sixteen months I have been quietly writing more than 300 articles, guides, and reflections for the Dive Otter website about how divers actually learn and improve. About a year ago it clicked that, when I was done with the initial content load for the website, that much of the material should be condensed, refined, and turned into a physical book. When I first started grouping the content together by topic, I realized I had enough material for at least five books. Literally. The past year has been spent organizing categories, refining the ideas, editing, and getting feedback from both divers and non-divers.
Most people encounter scuba long before they ever try it themselves. A photograph in a magazine, a nature documentary playing in the background, or a friend casually showing pictures from a dive trip can plant the idea. Sometimes that idea sits quietly for years before anything happens. Eventually curiosity turns into a simple question: what is diving actually like, and is it something I could realistically learn?
That question sounds straightforward, but the answers people encounter are often uneven. The diving industry understandably emphasizes the beauty and excitement of the experience. Training materials focus on the mechanics of certification and the skills required to complete a course. Both serve an important purpose, but neither spends much time explaining what the early reality of diving actually feels like.
In reality, scuba is simple in principle and more complicated in practice. You carry your gas supply with you and breathe underwater, but doing that safely requires equipment, procedures, and awareness inside an environment the human body was never designed for. None of that makes diving inaccessible. It simply means there is a learning curve, and pretending otherwise tends to create frustration later.
I tend to research topics deeply and try to synthesize the ideas that make up a subject into something understandable before jumping head first into it myself. When I was exploring scuba as a non-diver, I was surprised by how little clear guidance existed about what actually mattered when getting started. The information I found was scattered and inconsistent. Some of it was outdated. Some of it sat behind paywalls. Other pieces were short videos focused on a single narrow topic. There were marketing blurbs, extremely detailed but conflicting opinions, and the occasional rant. What I did not find was a clear path that helped someone understand how the pieces fit together or answered the questions that naturally arise when you are considering the sport.
The First Breath exists to make that early stage clearer. The book is written for people who are considering learning to dive. It does not attempt to replace a training manual and it does not promise transformation or instant confidence. Instead it explains what happens before, during, and after certification and offers a realistic look at the first year of diving. It focuses on how skills and comfort develop over time and where new divers typically encounter friction.
The early months of diving are shaped by decisions that most people do not anticipate when they first sign up for a course. Where to train, how quickly to dive again after certification, whether to purchase equipment or wait, how to find reliable dive partners, and how to maintain momentum when life competes for your time all influence whether someone continues diving or slowly drifts away from the sport. None of these decisions are dramatic on their own, but together they shape how a new diver’s first year unfolds.
Submitting the manuscript does not mean the journey is finished. It simply means the project has moved from a document on my computer into the hands of a printer.
For me, the 2026 dive season starts next week. I’m stepping away from content creation and heading to Cozumel with Crystal Blue Diving for a week of warm water diving. It’s a clean reset before the local season begins. Clear water, stable conditions, and straightforward profiles remove a lot of variables and let me focus on fundamentals. No drysuit, no low visibility, no layered logistics. Just diving. It’s a deliberate way to start the year and reestablish rhythm before coming back to Midwest conditions.
When I get back, I will spend the following few weeks reviewing proof copies and finalizing the details required for publication. Once that process is complete the book will become available, and I will share another update at that point.
If you are interested in the project in the meantime, you can read more about the First Breath on it's landing page:
For now the manuscript is in production. In a way it feels similar to the moment a new diver takes their first breath underwater. The beginning of something that will unfold one breath at a time.
