The story of how Whispers of Worlds came to be began so long ago that I can’t even pinpoint the year.

I’ve written countless stories over my lifetime. Some long, some short, some complete, many not. Back in 2019, it occurred to me that I had tons of short stories sitting around, so why not do something with them?

(Remember how I just talked about having the right motivation when creating a book? Yeah, this was not it.)

The Failed Attempt

I took a bunch of my old short stories and put them in a collection I called The Drabbles of a Dreamer. (I still love that title, by the way—what do you think?) Still, the book itself didn’t represent me well. The stories were all years old—some I wrote a decade before the book’s publishing.

It wasn’t long before I realized my mistake. I published a book just to publish a book, without putting a whole lot of thought or intent into it. Some family and friends read and enjoyed it, but I wasn’t satisfied. I knew it wasn’t my best work. Worse, it was old work.

And so, in 2024, I set out to make amends.

Impossible Dreams

I liked the heart of the stories in The Drabbles of the Dreamer. I thought if I spent some time heavily editing and extending them, they could be something special. But still, there was something missing:

I didn’t want my first novel to be a bunch of disjointed short stories.

Somehow, I knew these stories could tell one story.

I still remember that brainstorming session. I sat crammed into the corner of the bedroom my husband and I shared in our 700-square-foot apartment. I could only roll my chair one foot back from my desk before running into the bed.

But that day, the blank white page on my laptop had no borders. No walls. No limits.

Within the span of 30 minutes, that page was full—and so was the next one. I started with zero idea of how I was going to connect these stories and finished with not only a throughline, but also a sort of magic system and characters for this new world I was building.

Only God could have done that, and to this day, I thank Him for putting those impossible ideas into my head.

Have you ever had one of these brain-dump moments? They’re like nothing else!

The Tragedy

I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God had not only provided me with the ideas for this book, but was calling me to write it. At first, it was easy (ish). I spent a few months working on the stories and missed a couple of deadlines with my qualified editor, who also happened to be a dear friend. While work deadlines were no problem, I was a little out of practice with sticking to a personal writing schedule.

In the end, I set a final goal and stayed up until 2:00 a.m. frantically drafting the end of one story that eventually became the favorite of my current editor. I attached the entire manuscript to an email, hit send, and fell back into bed, zonking out for hours.

My friend sent me a sample edit of the first story, and I was in love. She understood my humor, enjoyed the unconventional ideas, and provided invaluable feedback. I couldn’t wait to work with her on the rest of the book.

On September 22nd, 2024, my husband and I got the worst phone call of our lives. My friend’s husband was in tears, telling us that his wife—my friend and editor—passed away suddenly the night before while giving birth to their first baby.

It was unimaginable. Everything I saw, touched, ate, and smelled for the rest of that day didn’t feel real. It had to be a dream.

It wasn’t. I had to go on without her.

A Miracle

My manuscript sat for a little while, untouched. But I began to feel that prompting again; despite everything, I had to do something with my book. Now, I was doing it forSarah. She had believed in it—so would I.

I hesitantly went on Upwork and posted a job for an editor—it was weird being on the client side for once. I got tons of responses, but when I looked at the top applicant, I knew I didn’t need to go any further. His writing was masterful, his essays and stories on topics and in genres I was interested in. At that point, I already knew he’d be a great editor, too, but his editing samples proved it. We set up our first virtual meeting.

I will never forget my first time meeting Evan Rhoades. It immediately became apparent that we shared many common interests—even apart from both being Christians, we were interested in theology and apologetics. We loved C.S. Lewis, Lord of the Rings, and Brandon Sanderson. We both had cats. In the words of Anne Shirley, we were “kindred spirits.”

On that initial call, within the first hour of meeting each other, we both shed tears as I relayed the story of Sarah’s friendship and passing, and Evan related a similar loss he’d recently been through. We knew that God brought us together for a reason; what were the chances of us meeting?

It was a miracle.

More Roadblocks

Even after finding a new editor, the hardships continued. It was within the first six months of Sarah’s death, and though I’d been able to move forward with finding an editor, it wasn’t so easy to continue work on the book. Evan made some amazing changes and comments on the manuscript throughout the first half of 2025, and we had several meetings to discuss them. It’s undeniable he made Whispers of Worlds ten times better than what it was.

But the final chapter (which is an entire short story itself) eluded me. The original was entitled The Lion of Garatoth, and I still love the idea and want to come back to it someday. However, after writing version after 10k-word version, I realized why it wasn’t working.

The story didn’t fit.

Whispers of Worlds doesn’t feature epic fantasy battles. The stories don’t concern the fates of entire worlds (…for the most part). Instead, this book highlights the importance of all the stories we live through, even the small ones. Even the mundane ones.

The Lion of Garatoth had too large a scale. The story itself had to change.

Drawing on some of the details from the story, and staying within the same fantasy world, I created a brand-new story—a mystery influenced by what I was reading and watching at the time.

It was close. It was so close.

But it still wasn’t working.

This time, I was ridiculously frustrated. What could possibly be wrong this time?! I had great worldbuilding, a fun mystery, robust characters—everything you could ever want.

Again, it took me far too long to realize the issue. This story was the penultimate chapter of the book, but the main character was only a side character. To be fair, she’s a side character in most chapters (remember how I said this book is unconventional?), but I figured out that it wasn’t right for this chapter.

Now, Eva Cruz had to take center stage.

Once again approaching a deadline with my editor I’d missed a few times already, I stayed up ‘til 4:00 in the morning and wrote the entire 7,000-word chapter in one night from scratch.It was messy, but Evan loved it (and edited the heck out of it). Again, it turned out to be one of his favorite chapters.

Fast Forward…

After countless hours of blood, sweat, and tears, I’m finally finished with the major revisions on Whispers of Worlds and have moved on to the final proofreading stage. The prologue and first chapter are officially DONE, and release is set for September. The book is dedicated to Sarah.

And again, I have God to thank. Over and over and over again.

So today, I want to share with you an excerpt from a chapter called “A Binding Promise.” It features Kazran Guenever, a character I’ve played around with for many years. I’m so excited that he finally gets to make his real debut.

Suddenly, something yanked Kazran up by the collar, and he instinctively sucked in a huge breath.

Ahh. His thoughts cleared a little, but relief was short-lived. For one, his body still throbbed with the ghost of pain.

Secondly, he found himself staring into Jackson Mimori’s jeering face.

“Kazran Guenever,” he said slowly, as if relishing every syllable. His single gray eye glittered with delight as he looked down from his hulking height. A cold and merciless metal eyepatch covered his missing eye. He cradled a heavy cannon in one arm like it was as light as a baby.

“Your hair finally gave you away,” Jackson continued. Ripples of laughter echoed throughout the entire gang gathered around.

Stars. He’d never seen them all in one place before. Though he’d never admit it out loud, the jeering, dark looks all added together were intimidating. It was hard to think of them as idiots when they had such an advantage in sheer numbers.

But he could pretend. He was good at that. Besides, he had a reputation to keep. Kazran raised his hands in the air—the simple movement sending pain tingling through his nerves—and shook out the fringe of his hair. “And your bad aim gave you away,” he finally replied.

Kazran didn’t find his own croaking voice all that impressive, but the words had the desired effect. Jackson’s face became a thundercloud in an instant. Kazran’s satisfaction at seeing him riled up didn’t last long as Jackson kicked him in the gut and let him fall limply to the ground as he gasped for breath yet again.

This is already getting old.

You practically asked for it, Aria said, though Kazran could tell she was trying a joke to overcome her fear—and maybe his, too.

Thanks a lot.

Before Kazran could fully recover, Jackson pulled him back to his knees. There was no smile this time, only hatred.

“You started the fire, didn’t you?”

Panic seized Kazran’s chest. He knows?!

A slight smile curved Jackson’s lips again. “I think you stole something valuable that we’ve been looking for. Where is it?” he growled, his stale breath making Kazran’s nose wrinkle. 

Pull it together, Kazran commanded himself. “Your peppermint gum? I might have it on me . . .”

Kazran patted down his jacket for show while his mind raced. So this was about the elixir? How in the cosmos had Jackson found out that he caused the fire? Or had he just guessed? Even Aria didn’t know. He’d been so careful . . .

Aria.

A different kind of dread struck him.

Pain exploded in Kazran’s gut again. He flew through the air and came to an abrupt halt as his head smacked into something solid—probably the thick glass of a building. Darkness enveloped his vision. His ears rang. He hissed and managed to sit up, blinking away spots. The world spun, but the blaster in his face was clear enough.

Aria was silent. And that scared him more than anything.

He used to be so good at this: the impossible escapes, the jibes, the carefree grins. Kazran Guenever, the daring space explorer who could get out of any scrape. That was before he’d lost his best friend, Madeus. Before he’d done things he was ashamed of. Before he’d started hiding things from Aria.

Before he’d compromised who he was.

Jackson chuckled. No doubt he could see the mask slipping. “I see you’re finally beginning to understand your position, Guenever. I’ll ask you one more time. Where’s the elixir?”

Kazran’s heart pounded faster. Adrenaline. That was good.

“Gone,” Kazran said quickly. If Jackson searched him, he’d find Aria. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

Jackson frowned. Kazran tried to find the right words to say, the ones that would buy him time, allow him to escape. Maybe the only thing that would work was a little bit of the truth.

“You’ve guessed, haven’t you? That my name isn’t just passed down.”

It was a leap that could cost him everything. But as Jackson’s eye widened, Kazran thought it just might pay off. After 150-odd years of dealing with the Mimori Gang, he’d met his fair share of gang leaders, and Jackson was the smartest by far. If any of them could have pieced together Kazran’s secret, it was him.

“So that’s how you do it,” Jackson murmured softly. Suddenly, his face tightened and he shoved Kazran back against the glass, making him see stars again. Kazran groaned.

Kaz . . . came Aria’s faint voice, full of pity.

“Where can I find more?” Jackson growled, resting the barrel of his blaster against Kazran’s chest, index finger dangerously close to the trigger.

Kazran laughed shakily, the best bravado he could muster at the moment. “If you kill me, you’ll never find out. I don’t just leave that info lying around.”

Jackson seemed to consider that. Kazran took the chance to think. He couldn’t see his blaster and didn’t fancy his chances of taking Jackson’s. He had a couple of pressure grenades on his belt, but he wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to grab, arm, and throw one before Jackson could shoot. 

Kazran’s gaze turned outward. There had to be something—

A small white splotch on the ground, darting behind an overturned food cart for cover. Panic shot through Kazran’s heart like a blaster bolt.

Aria! What in the highest heaven are you—?

Saving you! Star wraith, remember? The blob made a final dart to a felled crate—the solartin pile he’d seen earlier.

Kazran sucked in a slow breath as comprehension dawned. Time stood still as he pictured the destruction: glass shattered, wares blown to pieces, a crater in the street. But it wasn’t her fault; he had gotten them into this mess.

Aria—

I know. Just do it!

The pain in her voice was palpable. You did this, he reminded himself. You forced her to make this choice. You forced her to become exactly like you.

Aria’s voice pitched high in panic. Kazran, now!

He swallowed past a lump in his throat and promised himself that somehow, some way, he’d make it up to the people of Dunuma.

Get ready to run.

Kazran is just the beginning. Get ready to meet Colette, a young girl living in fear of a terrorizing dragon. Ash, one of the treefolk who becomes embroiled in the dark history of her world. Matthaios, a boy who’s still figuring out what it means to love.

And most of all, Eva Cruz, who wants nothing more than to find where she belongs.

If you’re interested, you can fill out this contact form to be one of the first to read Whispers of Worlds—for free! And if you want to know more ways to help make this book happen, you can see the donation box at the bottom of the post. Everyone who donates will be thanked by name in the book! I can’t publish this dear story without your help.

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So there it is: the story of how one real-life story produced a fictional story. Thanks for sticking with me on the journey.

Happy storytelling!
—E.J.

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