People don’t look up anymore.
So much of our attention is required downward. We stare at the screen in front of us for most of our lives: the laptop, the phone, the television. Entire generations are walking down the street, their eyes glued to a device. In many ways, we have lost connection to the vastness around us to stay connected to each other.
I am not innocent in this. Like most people, I spend more time looking at screens than I should. As a writer, I spend hours looking down at pages, notes, and drafts instead of up at the world around me. I catch myself doing this from time to time and question the need.
Now and then, on a clear night, I find myself looking up. Each time, I am amazed at how vast the universe really is, and I am reminded of how small we really are. Of how alone we on Earth are in this immense universe.
Maybe that is why I was drawn to science fiction when I was younger. It wasn’t about the spaceships or the technology. The best science fiction stories weren’t about those. They were about people.
The crew of the Enterprise traveled farther than any of us can imagine, yet still relied on one another to survive. They argued. They sacrificed. They protected each other. In many ways, they were a family.
That’s what stayed with me. And that is ultimately why I write science fiction.
The Earth Exodus Saga may take place among the stars, but it isn’t really about space. It’s about family.
I’m a girl dad. From the first moment I held each of my daughters, I was thinking about the future. Would they be safe? What opportunities would they have? Would I be strong enough to make the right choices on their behalf? What would happen if I wasn’t there to guide them?
These questions never really leave you.
As I watched my girls grow into intelligent, capable young women, those questions evolved. I found myself asking not only what kind of future they would have, but how much of that future would be shaped by the decisions I made today.
These questions eventually became the foundation for the Earth Exodus Saga.
At first, I imagined humanity forced to abandon Earth and search for a new home among the stars. The longer I sat with that idea, the more I became interested in the people living in that world.
What choices would parents make for their children in that world? What sacrifices would they accept? How much would they be willing to lose?
That’s where Astra came from.
As I imagined her life, she slowly revealed her story. I began to understand who she was, what she valued, what she feared, and what she hoped for. Before long, her world unfolded in front of me. Her struggles. Her victories. Her mistakes. Her search for something bigger than herself.
I realized there was no escaping it. Her story needed to be told.
When I began writing North’s Star, I found myself thinking about Orion as much as Astra. I kept returning to the questions that every parent eventually faces in one form or another:
What would I sacrifice for my children? Would I make the same decisions Orion makes? Would I have the strength to accept the same consequences?
At the heart of Astra’s story is a family separated by sacrifice, legacy, and the weight of decisions made long before any of them fully understood the cost.
In many ways, that’s not just Astra’s story. It’s all of ours.
We all inherit something from the generations that came before us. We all make choices that will shape the generations that come after us. We all wonder whether we’ve done enough, sacrificed enough, loved enough.
Earth Exodus began as a story about humanity leaving Earth. It became a story about what we carry with us when everything else is gone. And for me, that journey began with three little girls and a question every parent asks:
What kind of future am I leaving behind?
