Cynthia Ceilan

When I sat down to write the novel, Myths of a Merciful God, I was acutely aware that this particular story had all the potential for being an unbearably sad read. For that reason, I tried very hard to tell it in a way that mirrors real life, but that never loses sight of hope, or our remarkable ability to access and claim our own resilience.

We humans are, to say the least, extraordinarily complex beings. Our choices and actions often defy all discernible logic: We can laugh through our tears. We search for—and fully expect to find—glimpses of light in the darkness. We can recognize and hold dear those bits of kindness and compassion offered to us in the most fleeting of encounters with complete strangers. These, I believe, are the things that most define our capacity to love, and our ability to make it from one day to the next without succumbing to despair in our darkest hours.

To be sure, no one ever emerges from tragedy and loss to resume life as it was before. We are changed every day, in big ways and small, by the events that transpire from one minute to the next, from one hour to another. Every decision we make between the dawn and the twilight of any ordinary day determines who we become—and shows us what we're really made of—in all the days that follow one extraordinary moment.

These were the themes I wanted to explore, the notions that were rattling around in my heart and mind, clamoring to be heard, when I wrote this novel.