The tragic inspiration behind my second novel

When my kids were babies, their lives just beginning, my cousin died after a short illness in her early 40s.

Suddenly life felt so fragile, so indiscriminate and I wondered what it all meant.

With my thoughts churning over and over, a story emerged and I began to write it.

It was my way of trying to figure the world out.

Every night, I’d put my kids to bed and I’d spend an hour or two working on what is now From the Outside.

I had no idea why I was writing or what would become of the words that were growing in their thousands by the day.

When I answered the door last week to accept a parcel, then opened it up to see, for the first time, From the Outside in its final printed form, I was taken right back to those evenings, tucked away in a little study, typing late into the night.

I still don’t have the world figured out. Nor do I know what happens after we die.

But I like to think that those we’ve lost are never too far away, that they are still a part of our lives, and that it is only a matter of time until we meet our loved ones again.

For those who feel the same way, this book is for you.