If you’d like to send a note, I’ve set up a dedicated email for readers: proximitythoughts@gmail.com
Fatamorgana is a book born in silence, doubt, and late-night clarity.
I wrote it over three winter months in a cabin deep in Missouri, with Oppenheimer and Bach on loop. My husband took care of our kids in the city, while Panera deliveries and firewood kept me alive.
When I finished, my sister-in-law read it first. She sent me a message: “I’m still trying to understand how you wrote this book. I think it must be the Willow Creek house. I’m telling you, there’s a vortex there that awakens life and creativity. A magic house.”
I liked that idea of the vortex. I don’t remember much from those days except that the impulse to write was sudden, then obvious, then impossible to resist.
— Sarah
