*Written with Veridion Smart

When people learn that much of my writing is rooted in trauma, they often ask: Doesn’t it hurt to revisit those shadows? My answer is always, Yes, but…no.

Yes, because pain doesn’t disappear simply because we give it words. It lingers, it aches, and sometimes it sneaks up on us in the middle of a sentence. But no, because writing transforms pain into something else: Connection. Meaning. Hope.

When I wrote TIP THE PIANO MAN, I wasn’t just writing about Madison or Luke. I was writing about the countless men and women who have faced unspeakable events and still dared to love again. I was writing for the mothers and daughters who carry scars, seen and unseen. I was writing for my own catharsis, too.

Darkness by itself isolates us. But darkness brought into the light of story becomes something we can share. And in that sharing, we find community. We find the courage to talk about the things we’re told to keep quiet. We find healing.

I believe this is why so many readers are drawn to novels that deal with tough subjects. They’re not looking for pain – they’re looking for the flicker of light inside it. The moment when a character refuses to give up. The fragile hope that emerges when all seems lost. Because if they can see that light on the page, they can believe it exists for them, too.

So, yes, writing through pain is hard. Sometimes it feels like tearing open old wounds. But I’ve learned that inside every wound is a seed of compassion, and every scar holds the story of survival. Sharing that is worth every difficult word.

Because in the end, the darkness only has power if we hide it. And that, I refuse to do.