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Writing is a strange business.

One day you are wrestling with the weight of the universe, trying to pin down the exact texture of a character’s grief.

The next day, you are an admin assistant for your own imagination.

You’re checking spreadsheets. You’re formatting Kindle files. You’re staring at Canva drafts, wondering if the font is "serious" enough for a story about spiritual warfare and trauma.

It’s an odd contrast.

But the weight remains. Especially when you write about the hard things....

It has been about three weeks since Elias Wynn: The Witness released on May 11.

Which is strange to write, because for so long this book only existed in my head, my laptop, my notes, my edits, my Canva drafts, my overthinking, and the occasional moment where I stared at the screen wondering if I had lost my mind.

Now it is outside of me.

People can read it. People can judge it. People can misunderstand it. People can connect with it. People can close the book and carry something from it that I...