It’s a strange feeling, being this close to the release of a novel. You spend months (sometimes years) living in the world of your characters, watching them wrestle with loss, love, memory—and then, suddenly, you’re polishing the last page, finalizing the cover, and setting a date.
Memories of an Ash Covered Sky is almost here. April 30 is just around the corner. The final edits are nearly wrapped, book layout is underway, and the cover design is coming together in a way that perfectly captures the mood and soul of the story. And honestly? I can’t wait to share it with you.
This book has been one of the most personal projects I’ve taken on. It’s set against the backdrop of the Almeda Fire, a real and devastating event that tore through Southern Oregon in 2020. I remember watching the smoke crawl across the sky, ash drifting down like snow. It felt apocalyptic. But what stuck with me most were the stories that came after—the resilience, the heartbreak, the humanity of it all. That’s what I wanted to write about.
The characters in this story—especially Sky and her father—came from a place deep inside.
They’re not based on anyone specific, but their struggles, their silences, their stubborn love and quiet grief—I’ve felt those. Maybe you have too. This book is less about the fire itself and more about what remains in its wake: the memories we carry, the weight of unspoken things, and the possibility of hope even when the world has been turned to cinders.
As always, I wrote this story as a pantser, letting the characters lead the way. They surprised me, challenged me, and (more than once) left me staring at the screen, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. But in the end, I think they told a story that matters.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing more about the book: a sneak peek at the cover, maybe an excerpt or two, and a few thoughts on what it means to write fiction rooted in real events. If you’re already on my mailing list, you’ll be the first to see everything. If you’re not, now’s a good time to join.
Thanks, as always, for reading. For following along. For caring about these stories and the people who live in them.
Here we go. I hope you come along for the journey.
– Mike
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