Ambiguity: A mind game or a gift?

I fell hard for ambiguity in fiction after rereading An Na's The Place Between Breaths, a YA novel about a teenager named Grace whose schizophrenic mother has gone missing. Na uses the four seasons as chapter titles. Spring is the only chapters that have an assigned POV (Grace), but the other three seasons can be told from two characters' perspectives, and depending on who you choose will alter the story.

When I learned about this, all I could think was, WHOA! You can play with POVs and let your readers decide how they read the story? I've read books with multiple interpretations, but this was when creative control blew up in my face. You can tell from my blog title that unconventional writing techniques stick to my brain, and I'll never peel them off. I've admired Na's gift for writing for years and wondered if I could play with POVs in my own work. At the time, I was finishing my line edits for The Quiet Edge of Memory, and my pantser spirit was telling me to take a step back and reconstruct some of my novel.

I adopted Na's method and wrote a new opening chapter titled Maternity. I used second person, and the words pouring out were either Martha talking to her mother or Ian addressing his Korean birthmother or adopted mom. Both are yearning for a close maternal bond and expressing their fears about how their family dynamics would shape them in the future.

Okay, this was pretty cool, but what would my readers think? Is this a good idea for a debut novel? I had my doubts, but I kept going. I went through my manuscript and found any commonalities my characters had. In The Quiet Edge of Memory, my protagonists lug around baggage from depression and abuse. And as their parents navigate the aftermath of broken marriages, their fathers are the ones haunted by what ifs and should haves and are desperate for some closure.

So, I banged out more ambiguity.

Calamity can be read from Martha or Ian's father's POV.

Perplexity is either Martha's father or Ian watching her cope after she discovers her newfound faith comes with some heavy consequences.

Adversity is Ian addressing Martha or vice versa after he makes some life-altering decisions.

Infinity is Martha's mother or father talking to her before the story concludes.

And the last chapter? I can't explain it without spoiling it.

Photo by Therese Vercellone

My decisions for this novel were met with curiosity, criticism--and I'm grateful to report--some understanding. I was told this was a waste of time. It was too much work for my readers. I should have written an explanation in the book and wasn't putting my audience first.

In other words, taking creative risks should not be celebrated. It's selfish.

If writers never go beyond the trends and experiment with storytelling, there is no such thing as creating your own brand, honoring your own voice, and you will never know if a writing technique was worth it until you use it. Creative risks inspire and challenge art. They form discussions, cause you to ponder, and remind us that the imagination has no boundaries.

Ambiguity isn't for everyone and that's okay. I understand there are people who want every chapter of a story to make sense. But I also understand me. I understand what I wanted for The Quiet Edge of Memory. It became a story I never really finished writing because I let my readers do some of the storytelling, and I can't imagine it written any other way.

I fell down the rabbit hole.

I recently celebrated six months as a published author, and I already have the first manuscript for my next project, which is a chapbook of poetry centering on my adoption story, simplicity, and my love for books and American poetry. I'm still wondering if this is real, considering it took me twelve years to write The Quiet Edge of Memory. But I owe my progress to a rabbit hole I found, and thankfully, I followed my gut and jumped in.

I've been revisiting a lot of the literature I read during my first two years of college. I have a newfound love for Henry David Thoreau's Walden, which I read twice in three weeks. I'm officially a fan of Walt Whitman. John Steinbeck's "The Chrysanthemums" left an ache in my heart that will be there until I die. And, of course, I can never have too much Emily Dickinson.

I find these works comforting for a very personal reason. I didn't have the best time in high school English. I thought writing five paragraph essays were confining. I would interpret literature differently, but my teachers weren't the most supportive when it came to writing outside the lines.

Then I went to college and had a professor who wrote on my first essay, "You're a great writer!" She's the one who told me to take risks, and it was in her American lit class where I read Thoreau, Whitman, and became endlessly fascinated with Dickinson. Finally, an English teacher believed in me, and her encouragement was the seeds for the writer I am today.

Thinking about my early college days led me down the most glorious rabbit hole. Last week, I unearthed all the poetry I'd written during that time and discovered a treasure trove of material about literature and my creative self. My wording and phrases were clunky, but my study of American literature at that time awakened the poet in me, and I will honor that segment of my life with this chapbook. With some tough love line editing, I can make changes to these poems that will match my writing voice today that also preserves the messages I voiced years ago.

This was originally going to be a longer collection of the poetry I had planned to write over the span of one year, but I'm resorting to a chapbook. I'm not the most compact fiction writer (I mean, my YA book is over 100,000 words), but I do write compact poetry, so for me, a strong poetry collection is a short one. I can only write so many verses about being severed from my birthmother and how Thoreau's writings have gifted me a deeper appreciation for nature and solitude.

So, I thought my next publication would be fiction, but it's a poetry chapbook. A working title and the cover design is begging to come out, but I'll release that in the near future. There's also a short story about a girl on an NJ Transit train and a dystopian novel brewing in my mind, but for now, I'm writing whatever ideas come to mind in my writer's notebook. I'm also going to take a few weeks (or days or hours) away from my poetry and revisit it with fresh eyes when I'm ready.

I'm still shocked about how far I've gone in my current WIP but remember: the writing life is a wild ride. I'm holding on and letting it take me wherever my creativity leads me.

Six months as an author: Reflections and ramblings

Six months ago, my debut novel, The Quiet Edge of Memory, was released. Since then, I've been working on my social media presence, (Thank you, BlueSky, for existing. Goodbye, Instagram.) doing a ton of reading, and two weeks ago on my birthday, I started my new project--a collection of prose and poetry. I don't have a working title or release day yet, but it is such a comfort to be back in drafting mode on Word.

I still wake up some mornings and have to remind myself that I'm a published author. I poured my deepest thoughts about international adoption into my MMC, Ian. I used a lot of my academic experiences for my FMC, Martha, but I'm not snarky and outspoken like her. Truth is, I'm very shy, but writing has been my gateway to boldness. While I wrote draft after draft for this book, I had doubts, wondering if I should be so transparent. If I can really put myself in Martha's shoes and write from a voice that's not mine. But I pressed on. I paid for good editing. Even after putting in over ten years of writing, paying editors, rewriting, buying ISBNs, and investing in the cover design, I still had moments when I wanted to hide under Patrick Star's rock and throw it all away.

But I couldn't keep my manuscript hidden in my files. God kept nudging me forward. I went so far and worked so hard. Why back out?

I didn't. My name and book listing is on the Internet. I'm still getting comfortable talking about my novel with others. I still doubt if anyone will pick up the copies I leave in Little Free Libraries. It's still a big deal sometimes to hit that Post button on BlueSky, no matter how random or personal my ramblings are. In fact, it's even a big deal to me that I've maintained this blog for six months.

And the little things are a big deal too! A reader told me she devoured my book in two days and loved it. I checked my KDP account one evening and discovered I sold five copies in one day. Royalties have appeared in my account when I thought no one was seeing me on social media. When you write and put your work out there, people are watching, and if you think they're not listening, they probably are.

If you have a story in you, write it. If you want others to hear it, publish it. And if you want others to know you wrote it, speak up.

Now, I'm going to have a late breakfast, drink some hot chocolate, get sucked into Henry David Thoreau's journals, and write some poetry. And I'll keep being that writer who takes creative risks and does the opposite of what everyone tells me to do. (Remember: do NOT betray your story!) I love every minute of it and wouldn't trade in this crazy life for anything else.

Nowhere to be Found by Bae Suah

Set in 1988 in South Korea, the unnamed narrator of Bae Suah's Nowhere to Be Found is working a clerical job at a university and waitresses at night. She is the middle child in her distant family with ten years between her older brother and younger sister. Her mother is an alcoholic. Her father is incarcerated for a crime he didn't commit, and she writes him letters she never sends out. Her family's economic situation is so bleak that she shares a winter coat with her sister. Her brother hopes to land a janitorial job in Osaka to support the family.

The narrator has a boyfriend, Cheolsu. They're not exclusively dating, but they act like a couple, and their friends think they're a couple. When they're intimate for the first time, her language is detached and clinical. Cheolsu is also in the military, and one day, his mother wants her to bring him chicken, because she doesn't feel like taking the long commute to the army base.

When she arrives at the base, she's given the runaround and has to go elsewhere to find him. At the bus stop, she notices a wanted flyer for one female and two males for a violent crime. The woman is described as having red hair and wearing baggy pants, and the men were wearing basketball shoes, Remember that.

When the protagonist finally gets to the base and meets up with Cheolsu, she admits she was afraid she would never see him again. At last, she opens up a little and displays some emotion and vulnerability.

After she visits Cheolsu, she becomes sick. Her brother leaves for Japan. Her mother asks how visiting Cheolsu went. She responds with "Cheolsu was not there. Cheolsu fell like a crow from a white cliff while I wandered through a village of soldiers in the snow carrying Cheolsu's dead chicken ..." and her mother notes that she and Cheolsu "don't make sense together."

She's right; they didn't make sense together. But what does make sense in the protagonist's life?

Fast forward, and the narrator is with another lover in a rundown home. She no longer is in touch with her brother, who successfully made it to Japan. She sees herself pass by a window and says, "I've heard that what appears in a hallucination is an image of the dead." Has she become so distant with the people around her that she's distant with herself?

She and her partner go to the Rose Garden. When they get there, she has an encounter with a woman with baggy jeans and dyed red hair and two men wearing basketball shoes. And then, the story ends abruptly. The narrator's take on life and her relationships can be shallow and dislikable, but her raw emotions kept me hooked until the end. I came to care and wonder about her long after I closed the book. She remains nameless throughout the whole novella, which stood out to me, considering how important names and their meanings are in Korean culture, but this further emphasizes the ghostliness of her identity.

I've read 17 books in April and Nowhere to Be Found is my favorite. I was immediately sucked into the narrator's psychology and how she moved through poverty, isolation, and depression. This story can be read in one sitting, but you might find yourself flipping back to earlier passages, searching for fine details you missed. Bae Suah's compact and lyrical prose gave me enough dialogue and descriptions to make the other characters three-dimensional without the need for extended backstories. A beautiful and ugly read that holds more depth and intrigue than most novels five times its length. This is my first read from Bae Suah and it won't be the last.

I'm an indie author, and I left Instagram. I have no regrets.

A few years ago, I opened an Instagram account. I kept it private for a while. Then, a month before my novel, The Quiet Edge of Memory, was released (I know; I didn't market far in advance), I set my account to public to draw potential readers in before my November 2025 release date. Slowly, my follower account climbed, A handful of likes came in. Hang in there, I thought. Keep the hashtags up. Get out of your shell. More followers will come.

I'm an introvert, so going public was a leap for me. I created some reels about my novel. I posted a cover reveal, a first page reveal. And I even shared some creative journaling pages. I used hashtags to draw my target audience in. I watched YouTube videos on how to make high-quality content, what video apps to use, how often I should post, etc. Release day was creeping up on me, and if I wanted people to know about my book, I had to put myself out there, because going indie means marketing was all my responsibility.

But I got sucked down the rabbit hole. I scrolled, and it was hard to stop. I compared myself to other Christian authors' posts. I spent too much time ensuring my IG posts were aesthetically pleasing on Canva. I kept putting in those hashtags, and I kept telling myself things will pick up. Keep trying. Keep promoting.

A few days ago, I posted a video about a last-minute trip I took to the city with a friend. I'd put my novel in a Little Free Library and documented the places we went. I used very broad indie book hashtags. My reel got over 300 views. Whoa. Okay, maybe I finally caught on. However, the engagement for this post was low.

Then it hit me: Life is happening as you try to get noticed on social media and doom scroll.

I was tired of trying to fit in with the trends, which is something I've never loved doing, hence my blog title. Who cares about what music was popular for reels? Why care if my journaling pages looked vintage or pleasing to the eye? Why was the combinations of hashtags I used in a post such a big deal when they were relevant to my content? (Pro tip: Using adoptee and Christian lit hashtags together is pointless.) I just wanted to create content that was 100% me.

I also wanted to reclaim my time. So, I deleted the Instagram, Facebook, and Discord apps from my phone. I cleaned out my YouTube subscriptions and favorites and cleared out my Watch Later list. I wanted to detach myself from social media to leave room for more life experiences rather than looking at the world through a screen.

Spring weather is officially here, and I want to go outside more, devour my TBR pile, be wildly creative in my journal, study Korean more, be present, and stop feeling the pressure of depicting myself a certain way. I'm not for the tapping, the ASMR, the sameness, and consistently sharing my life online. My book isn't trendy, and I'm okay with that. I'm okay with social media not being for me now, and I'm ready to look for alternative ways to market my book.

And I could totally do without those bot accounts.

If you've quit social media, feel free to comment and tell me about your decision to walk away.

You receive your first email about your book and …

​you think, OMG, someone not only took the time to read my book; he emailed me about it! He’s saying cool things about it!

But his tone is very generic and wooden. And he’s offering to help me market my book  properly for the next 60 to 90 days.

He’s AI.

I’ll stow this away in my memory as a humorous milestone in the author life.

If you’re reading this now and live in the Northeast, have a great snow day.

The Place Between Breaths by An Na

I've been a huge fan of An Na's writing since I read A Step from Heaven in ninth grade. It was the first Korean-American novel I had ever read, and I was blown away with how much feeling and detail Na could fit in such compact writing, (Na could write about pasta boiling and I’d read it.) This morning, I reread her latest novel, The Place Between Breaths, and finished it before noon.

Eighteen-year-old Grace King interns at the prestigious lab where her father recruits scientists to find a cure for schizophrenia, the disease that whisked her Korean-born mother away from them over a decade ago. He has devoted his life to this research, hoping science has the answers and hoping that one day, his wife will be found.

As Grace tries to navigate the impact of her mother’s disappearance and her dad’s distant behavior, her friend Hannah is pregnant. Grace tries to offer her ways out, but Hannah claims her casual boyfriend, Dave, loves her. How can Grace believe in love? Her father--an adoptee who always hoped to find true love and have a family--thought he had found this in his marriage, only to have his wife leave without a trace.

And something else is bothering Grace. She hasn't been herself. She doesn't look good. Her friend Will from the lab is worried about her. Stephanie, who works at the diner she frequents, is worried about her. Grace tells everyone she is fine, but a different reality is unwinding in her head. She's always hearing a train, She sees a woman at the bus stop who's suddenly not there, not even her footprints in the snow. And is the research at the lab the only thing that's really keeping her father from being fully present? 

This is the third time I’ve read The Place Between Breaths. It’s a slim book that can be read in one sitting, but it has left a lasting impression on me. I always find myself leafing through its page as long after I finished the book. Na’s lyrical writing of Grace’s grief from losing her mother and her growing battle with mental health made me feel choked up during my second read. And today, I picked up on some small details that I hadn't noticed before that were valuable to the plot. The ambiguous POVs keep me wondering what could become of Grace and what her father and/or Will felt as they witnessed someone they love break down.

The Place Between Breaths is a dark, gripping, and beautiful masterpiece that I highly recommend to anyone who loves literary fiction and wants a deeper understanding of schizophrenia.

It’s been 84 years …

​Okay, not that long. But if you’re an avid reader like me, who reads 75+ books a year, then, you’ll get what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about those books you hug to your chest when you’ve finished reading them. Those books that hold those favorite passages that randomly enter your mind, and you pluck the title off your shelf to find those words. Those books you gush about when someone asks you, “Have you read anything good lately?" Those books you can't live without if you were stranded on a desert island.

It’s been a long time since I could feel any of that about a book, and I miss those feelings.

So, this snowy afternoon, I gathered some of my favorite titles and decided that they’re going at the top of my 2026 reading list.

What books do you plan on reading next year?

Hello!

 My name is Therese. Five days ago, I published my young adult Christian novel, The Quiet Edge of Memory, which is a love story of two loners who look beyond their differences to help each other sort through past trauma and find healing. I've been throwing myself into marketing as I continue to get comfortable in my author skin.

During my early college days, I had a private LiveJournal account. I've hung around Blogger occasionally, and now that I'm published, I thought it was time to give myself a space to document the writing life and share my enthusiasm for books and creative journaling.

As I wrote my novel and walked the self-publishing path, I realized my story was hard to place. I did not write a clean Christian novel. It's not Amish, historical, or thriller and suspense, It's about two college students, Martha and Ian, who have baggage. Martha is snarky and defensive to protect herself after she suffered from religious abuse. Ian is carrying pain from his adoption, even though he came to the States from Korea as a baby and has a very supportive father. My characters make mistakes as they try to sort out their futures. They struggle with boundaries in dating. They slip and use some foul language. But they believe in the gospel and let God move in their lives in extraordinary ways.

I enjoy stories that are outside the trends, break down barriers, and challenge literary norms. When I wrote my first creative non-fiction essay in college about my love for the Russian language, my composition professor encouraged me to take risks with my writing. I did and I never stopped. I love to play with language, formatting, POVs, and ambiguity. Just to warn you, I. Love. Ambiguity. I love it because you can never stop talking about a story that has multiple interpretations.

To give you an idea of the kinds of books I read, some of the titles I’ve recently enjoyed are The Girl Who Never Read Noam Chomsky (Jana Casale), The Place Between Breaths (An Na), and Lolita (Vladimir Nabokov).

And I'd love to feature book reviews starting next month. I'll read anything from Christian fiction, romance, poetry, memoirs, and general fiction. I'm especially interested in literary fiction and books that cover adoption issues. So stayed tuned; your book might show up here!

I hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving!