Over the years, the characters of my forthcoming novel, Distorted Is The View, have become companions to me—sometimes mirrors, sometimes teachers. In my newsletter, I’ve been sharing a little of what they have taught me. Today, I’m bringing that series here to the blog.
A character, briefly introduced: Sam
Sam, the nine-year-old daughter at the heart of the story, is a witness. She notices but cannot safely say what she sees. What she wants is steadiness, a home that doesn’t crack.
She taught me that a child’s heart can hold far more than adults realise. Confusion, fear, disappointment, love and hope; all of it can live together there, without neat answers.
What moves me most about Sam is not innocence, but the quiet strength of her tenderness. She does not yet know how to harden herself in the way grown people do. She reminds me that love can remain present even where disappointment and hurt have entered the room.
We live in a culture that often has little patience or no room for human frailty. A culture that is quick to judge, cut off, cancel, decide who deserves mercy and who doesn’t. But children often reveal something else: an instinctive tenderness, a grace that feels close to mercy. Even when the adults around her falter, Sam keeps reaching toward love.
Mercy, forgiveness and grace are some values this novel kept asking me to consider. They are the very reason it took me years to finish writing this book. I was steeped in judgement and having a hard time forgiving a wrongness in my real life. That’s why now I plan to bring these values into every room I speak about this book.
A line from her (or what she might say): I only knew I was happy he had come, and for a little while that felt bigger than everything else.
A small beauty I noticed along the way: The sound of a child’s laughter arriving before the child herself, reminds me that joy can sometimes enter a room ahead of us and make space.
A question for you: What part of you still knows how to love without keeping score?
Thanks for reading. May your heart remain child-like, make space for love, even when it doesn’t feel earned.
P.S. If you’ve already read this in the newsletter, thank you for meeting it again here.
