Yet some stories ask something different of us. They invite us not to escape reality but to engage with it. My new novel, What Remains After, belongs to that second category.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned as both a writer and a reader is that no book is for everyone. That doesn't mean a book is flawed. It's simply the reality of storytelling. Readers have personal tastes, preferences, and backgrounds that influence the kinds of books they enjoy.

There is a myth in modern stories that survival is the ultimate victory. If someone gets through the story, everything seems settled. Survival is often the peak moment. In many cultures, storytelling focuses on rescue or escape from hardship and enduring through it. Phrases like “You were so strong” or “At least you survived” can unintentionally oversimplify what happens next.

In fiction, many stories offer easy optimism. They may touch on difficult real-life situations, but they shy away from anything that suggests there aren’t always happy endings or simple answers to life’s problems. In my experience, most readers do not trust these kinds of stories.

Many of the stories that remain with us long after we close the book share a common trait. They do not ignore suffering, yet they refuse to surrender to despair. They tell the truth about the darkness of life while still leaving space for grace. The kind of storytelling I am drawn to lives in that tension.