When I FINALLY finished, I put it away. Like Orwell said, writing a novel is like suffering a bout with a long illness. Now that I was done, I was finally healed. The world has changed in seven years, I told myself. The message isn’t as urgent.
Now things have changed again and the story is pressing on my insides eager to be born. An idea for the sequel is bubbling in my head, a story that I know I was born to write. Life is a mystery. Who knows how these things work?
Orphaned at 13 and shuffled through foster care, CHLOE STANTON never quite belonged. Her life takes on a Cinderella quality when she marries SCOTT, a brilliant neuroscientist who finally gives her the love and security she always craved. Her art career flourishes. She lives in a beautiful home. She has everything until Scott’s RESEARCH ASSISTANT turns up dead and Chloe starts asking questions.
Why does Scott pressure her to take medication? And why is he so secretive about his research? And most chilling – why does she have the same recurring dream of a population of empty, emotionless souls?
To find the answers, Chloe fears she has to give up everything she ever wanted or risk becoming one of the gray, soulless people in her dreams – victims of a far-reaching mind control program called Thought Farming.
As you can probably tell, Thought Farm reads as a thriller. But just like Chloe’s art, for those who look, there’s more to be seen.
Now the strange thing is, after I finished Thought Farm and put it away, I realized that some of my paintings began to take on the character of Chloe’s work and could be interpreted in dual ways.
This is an example of the type of art Chloe, the protagonist in the Thought Farm paints. In one view, you can see a full moon amid a vortex of stars and solar systems. In another view, you can see a baby getting ready to be born.