So you actually want to hear a little bit about me? Interesting. Well, I could wax eloquent about my writing credentials as a Christian author, or maybe my awards and achievements in Christian fiction, should any of those exist in this reality (they do not). Or I could drone on about where I live (Austin, Texas), my family (wife and 3 kids), along with some clever banter about my dog (don't have one, although I once had a pet tarantula named Fangs). Instead, I believe you'd be more entertained with the story of how 10910 materialized from the ether. Which is my story too.

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(Minor spoiler alert--if you're the type who likes to figure out the symbolism for yourself, stop here until you've read the novel).

 

It was March of 2020, and severe weather brewed on the horizon, both literally and metaphorically in terms of the Covid pandemic that was sweeping the planet. I was headed out for a jog along Barton Creek, hoping to outrun the oncoming storm, although getting caught in a deluge would go unnoticed upon my return considering how much I perspire when exercising.

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One of the bends on the trail bumps up right next to the creek, and I noticed the oddest thing--the fish seemed to be swimming in a circle. I broke pace, slowing to observe the phenomenon when a bolt of lightning splintered from the dark clouds above and struck the water. Grabbing a tree to keep from losing my balance, I watched to see if the fish were injured by the mass of electricity, when I swear that one of them turned to look right at me.

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Whoops, sorry, forgot that I'm writing non-fiction here, so scratch the last paragraph. Anyway, during my otherwise uneventful run, God placed in my mind the concept of 10910, a drug that symbolizes salvation in Jesus, and the full storyline began to form. Subsequent bouts of exercise filled in more scenes, and within a few months, most of the novel was bouncing around in my head.

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What should I do about it? I'm an engineer by trade, having designed silicon chips that power everything from smartphones to laptops to the artificial intelligence capabilities of the Amazon Cloud. I'm not an author. I've never written anything professional, unless you count System Verilog or uArch specs (kudos to you if you're technical enough to know what either of those things are). I rarely even post on social media. So, sorry God, thanks for the cool story, I can't help you here.

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Apparently, God found my response humorous, and He came back with a little joke of his own. After my nephew's wedding in June of 2020, only one person left the reception having been mysteriously infected with the Covid virus. I'm sure you can guess who.

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My sweet wife, the R.N., quarantined me in the spare bedroom faster than the doctor could say, "It's a brand-new disease, we have no medicine at this point, call 911 if you can't breathe." The HR department at my employer forbade me from working, so besides texting my kids to beg for snacks and beverages to be left outside the bedroom door, what's an infected guy to do for two solid weeks?

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Type.

 

And so type I did. By the time I was released from captivity, I had over 100 pages and an inability to stop. Three months later, I pushed back from the keyboard and stared at the five-hundred-page monstrosity before me. Dear God, what had I done?

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After fourteen drafts, five beta readers, and one professional editor who was unbelievably gentle as she informed me that I'd done it all wrong and showed me how to rewrite the entire thing, 10910 was born (although not before dieting down to a more svelte 320 pages). There are more chapters in this story, but for now, suffice it to say that I pray God will use this fiction to reveal truth to those who need it most.

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