The spine of Jeff Rice’s debut novel, “Going Low,” consists of a sparkling round of golf played by the book’s central character, a fictional PGA professional named Jason Dickerson, during the U.S. Open. Again and again Dickerson finds himself behind trees or in bunkers or mired in the heavy rough. And every time he figures things out.

It was not unlike that for Rice, an ex-sportswriter who now makes an honest living as an adjunct professor and public relations specialist at Penn State, his alma mater. He faced multiple challenges in the years-long process of getting his tale out into the world (ultimately self-publishing it as an ebook), not the least of which were his own self-doubts and second-guesses.

Which shouldn’t come as a surprise. Writing — like golf or, really, life its ownself (to quote one of Rice’s writing heroes, the late Dan Jenkins) — is often a messy proposition. Things don’t always go according to plan. Some scrambling will be required in order to reach the desired outcome.

So that’s what Rice, a 1999 Penn Manor graduate, did. In my eyes he managed the story as a club pro would an unfamiliar course, finally holing out on No. 18 to polite applause and the measured affirmations of the too-serious-by-half TV analyst. I will also admit, however, that I find it difficult to be objective about the guy. I know him well, seeing as he sat two seats to my right in the press box at Penn State home football games for several years. And I always regarded him as a conscientious writer who did solid work, first for the Centre Daily Times and later for Lions247.

Understand, though, that the book stands on its own merits. It’s a spare, smooth read, and a convincing tale. The characters are well-developed, the dialogue sound. And while producing it, Rice told me over the phone recently, he learned some things — about fiction-writing and, really, himself.

“I think the hardest part was just kind of acknowledging and being honest with myself that this may never amount to much of anything,” he said. “I think there’s part of you that knows that on a deep subconscious level, right? And there’s part of you that doesn’t want to admit to yourself that it could fail.”

But it didn’t. He put it out there. He put himself out there. That, he said, was enormously gratifying.

“I have so much more respect for the process now,” he said. “I have so much respect for people who can get it published and do it again and again and build an audience and keep it going.”

A 2003 PSU graduate, he recalls taking one or two creative-writing classes in college (as well as a poetry class that included “me, about 18 girls and Zack Mills,” the Nittany Lions’ star-crossed quarterback). But Rice was a sportswriter. That had been his orientation while working at the Daily Collegian as an undergrad and would remain the case after he turned pro.

At the same time he had always read fiction, and he loves golf. Plays on weekends. Watches all the majors (and many of the non-majors) on TV. Reads up on equipment and such. Runs a fantasy golf league, for goodness sake.

“That’s how bad I have it,” he said.

He doesn’t remember exactly how long ago he began writing this book. Maybe three years back. Maybe longer. But he was fully cognizant of the fact that he was making a break from his previous work — that it is one thing to work in the just-the-facts-ma’am world of journalism, quite another to create your own reality.

“It was so fun to just have all the controls,” he said, “and know that if something worked, I have to take credit. And if something didn’t work, then it was completely on me.”

The first scene he wrote — one that found Dickerson on the driving range adjacent to Leisure Lanes, where Rice used to hone his swing — wound up on the cutting-room floor. Rice also struggled to conjure up names for the characters. But in his head he had outlined the story’s general direction, and about two-thirds of the way through writing the book figured out how he wanted to end it.

He was in no rush, though. Some weeks he wrote a lot, other weeks not at all.

“If I would have had to write this book in a year, I might have been able to do it, I don’t know,” he said. “I think I would have been a lot more stressed about it. But the fact that I was doing it on my own timetable made it fun. It was enjoyable. It’s one thing to write when you’re getting paid — and it’s great to write and get paid, don’t get me wrong — but it’s something else when you’re writing for yourself.”

By the summer of 2019 he was for all intents and purposes done, and began seeking out agents. Finding that none were receptive to his entreaties — sports fiction is a tough sell, especially when it is produced by a new author — he figured that going the ebook route would be the best alternative.

Still, he continued to tinker with the manuscript. He solicited the advice of others. He hemmed. He hawed.

“And then a couple months ago I said, ‘Look, 2020 has been a miserable year. It’s coming to an end. Just let me accomplish this thing and get it done,’” he said.

He used an Amazon software program to format the manuscript, while enlisting a high school friend, a local graphic designer named Mindy Ascosi, to do the cover illustration. And on Nov. 25, the day after Rice’s 40th birthday, the book appeared.

Thoughts?

“There’s parts of it that I read now and I’m just like, ‘eh,’” he said. “There’s parts of it I read and I’m like, ‘This isn’t bad. This is pretty good.’ I think the goal is the next one, there’s fewer bad parts and more good parts, and a more coherent story. And maybe a more interesting story and maybe even a more marketable story.”

And he sincerely hopes there is another one. Maybe something about a fictional Final Four. Maybe, he said, something that plays “a little fast and loose with the rules of time and space.”

The possibilities are as wide as the widest fairways. And while there will always be obstacles, he understands better than ever how to negotiate them — that things might not always go according to plan in writing, golf or life its ownself, but that solutions (dead solid perfect or otherwise) are always within reach.