April 15, 2026
The day when…
the ethereal became tangible,…
the hidden was revealed,…
the shadow entered the light.
What in the world am I talking about?
Release day, and the special message delivered through my office window.
Between working on tasks surrounding the release and doing a little writing, I glanced out my office window to the mesquite across the street with Mingus Mountain beyond that.
I love my office view.
Out there, five raven circled counterclockwise over the mesquite, instead of the pair I normally see in the area throughout the week.
I’ve always had a connection with raven. Maybe because I grew up in the desert where they’re common. Or maybe because I have a connection with their more liminal nature. Either way, I smiled and turned back to work. It surely was a day of change and disruption after all, and I took it as that, a simple nod.
A while later I glanced outside again and found there were now seven raven. Still circling. Still counterclockwise. Or, bringing focus to one area or point. What had been the normal was unwinding to make room for the new, or next step.
I returned to the tasks on my desktop, only to glance outside again sometime later and what do you think I found? The number had increased again. I now had nine raven circling counterclockwise over the mesquite across the street.
You might want to say I’m making this up. I assure you, I am not. I couldn’t write what came next, if I tried.
Cutting under the ravens, coming directly toward me, was a large bird. I didn’t recognize it at first but then noted the deep brown body and white head.
A bald eagle.
Now, despite what some might think, bald eagles are not rare here in Northern Arizona, but they’re also not something I see every day, month, or even year. And here one was gliding directly toward me and my office window. I stood, went to the window and watched this beautiful bird rise up toward my second story window to disappear over the roof. I’d looked into its eyes, saw its underbelly and smiled.
There was so much symbolism in this experience, I struggle to know where to start. The most obvious was the book.
It all started with change. A big, massive, messy change called COVID. That was how the book came to me. Over five days (no, I’m not making this up) with a 102.7 degree fever, a dream started and picked up every time I went back to bed. And so, the story was brought to me.
The book progressed for five years and seven revisions. I learned and was refined by the process and the spiritual messages that came through on their own timing. Spirit wove itself into the story. The oracle cards Sam pulls in What Darkness Reveals were actual cards (names changed to protect the innocent) I pulled for Sam’s character. And interestingly, only ever for her character.
And now everything I had suffered through at the start, learned and applied over the years was complete. For that is what nine is about; completions. But completions are not endings, but thresholds, transitions into something new and different. And I was experiencing that. I was officially a published author as of that morning. The book had changed me, in more ways than just that.
I had stepped deeper and deeper into my own spirituality over those five years. I had learned both the craft of spirituality and the craft of writing. I had started owning being a writer of vampire fiction, even when a classmate said we didn’t need another Twilight and to come up with an original idea. It was a gut punch, even when I knew from that statement he hadn’t actually listened to understand my elevator pitch. A classmate came to my aid and supported me, despite her dislike of the genre. And then later that day, so did our teacher, Jerry Jenkins.
I also found myself stepping deeper into the research and exploration of actual folklore and history. I’d always had more than a surface understanding of the lore, now I was digging deeper still. And now, something in me wanted to share it. I flinch at the stereotypes and tropes that are so overdone. The surface telling of stories of creatures we’ve marginalized into monsters and lovers, when the truth is much more in between, and far more human. But they still live. And now, I’m here to tell their stories in every shadow and light I can possibly find.
So you see, I’ve danced with the shadows for five years and seven revisions to reach this moment. A culmination. An ending that opens a beginning. And I’m ready to stand in it with authority and pride, to trust what my writings will unveil in the years ahead. Because the dance isn’t done.
“Every shadow. Every light. Vampires, retold and reimagined.”
That’s my tagline, and I plan to honor it across many a different tale.
I invite you to join me on this journey. As one of my own characters says, “This is only the beginning.”