Why I Write the Stories No One Wants to Tell

Because most people are too afraid to feel.

Why now?

Because we’re all sleepwalking.Because we’ve traded truth for comfort.Because love—the real kind, the kind that breaks you open—still deserves its story.And because silence kills more dreams than failure ever will.

The world doesn’t need more fiction. It needs fire. It needs stories that shake us awake—rip the masks off, stir the heart, and punch through the noise.

That’s why I write transformational novels.Not to entertain. To intervene.

I’m not interested in fluff, trends, or formulas.I’m interested in the moments we bury—the choices we never made, the feelings we never voiced, the lives we were too afraid to live.

I write because we forget.

We forget the sacredness of this one, wild life.

We forget that emotion is not weakness—it’s the compass we’ve stopped following.

So I tell the stories no one else will.The ones that don’t play nice.The ones that stare you down and whisper: Wake up.

That’s why I sometimes narrate from The Gifts of Life—like Death.

Because Death doesn’t lie. It holds up the mirror we spend our lives avoiding. It doesn’t care about your curated feed, your job title, your five-year plan. It asks the real questions:What did you feel?Who did you love?And what will be left when all of this disappears?

Narrating from Death isn’t about endings. It’s about beginnings—the kind that cost everything. It’s about choosing soul over safety.Meaning over momentum. Love over logic.

That’s why I write.

To remind you there’s still time.

To feel more.

To fear less.

To live like you mean it.

Because if your story doesn’t change you—what was the point of living it at all?