Books can be temporary refuges, sandcastles that wash away the moment I close the cover. I want a story to rivet me with tension and excitement, but I also want it to challenge and change me as a person, to grow my soul. I want a book that doesn’t wash away, even years later. I want to read such a book, but even more—I want to write it.
In April, 2018 my faith was tested by a brain tumor. There was a time I thought I might keel over at any moment. That sort of thinking changes a person. I stopped trying to escape my world and purposed to appreciate each breath.
I now see books as more than escapes; they shape us individually and—should an author be so fated—collectively. I wrote a book called Trespass about a girl who acquires the skeleton key to every mind on planet Earth. What would happen if your inside voice leaked to an outside ear? Or if you heard the thoughts of people around you? Think you’d remain the same? That you’d survive?