2 days until launch: Two Versions That Almost Were

Some stories arrive gently.

This one hit me like a brick wall. In the throat. Off the side of a cliff.

I didn’t expect it—not the way it came through, not the places it asked me to go. And honestly? There were two very real versions of this book that almost existed… but didn’t.

Let’s talk about them.

1. The First Version of Chapter 5

Chapter 5. Whew.

If you’ve read it, you know.

The bones were always there—but the soul of that chapter shifted entirely after a conversation with one of my early beta readers, Mikayla.

Before life swept her in another direction, Mikayla left me with one sincere, pointed question about the elite guards and what could be. Her insight was so raw, so exacting, that it unraveled and rebuilt the chapter from the inside out. That moment—her question—altered the entire course of the story.

And then came Danielle.

I mentioned her in yesterday’s post for a reason. Because the timeline of this book? It nearly broke me. For years, I felt like I was sitting outside in the front yard, staring at a house I couldn’t enter. The door wouldn’t open, and no matter how long I stared, I couldn’t figure out how to move through time without getting tangled in it.

Danielle came in with clarity, with questions that cracked something open. She didn’t offer all the answers. She offered something better: space to think aloud. We brainstormed the journal entries together—and finally, the timeline began to make sense.

I’m not being dramatic when I say: that one shift unlocked the entire house.

2. The Ending I Never Saw Coming

I won’t spoil it here. But I will say this: I didn’t expect the ending to land where it did. The second version of this book—the one that quietly existed for years in my head—was much simpler, much safer. But that version didn’t demand anything from me. It didn’t require courage.

The version that exists now? It asked for everything.

And I gave it.

So yes, two versions of Moons and Shadows nearly existed—maybe more if I’m being honest. But the one you’ll hold in your hands?

This is the one I was meant to write.

And if you’re in that place right now—staring at a door that won’t open—maybe what you need isn’t to force it open, but to invite someone in to sit with you. Sometimes it takes a question, a pause, a person to help you find your way through.