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There's something surreal about hearing someone else read words that once existed only in your head.
When I opened auditions for the audiobook edition of The Room Isn't Empty Anymore: Book One, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect.
What I certainly didn't expect was 81 auditions.
Eighty-one people willing to lend their voices, their time, and their talents to a collection of seventeen stories that began as ideas rattling around inside my skull.
I've spent a considerable amount of time listening...
Something funny has started happening with The Room Isn’t Empty Anymore.
People are getting nervous about it.
And most of them haven't even read it yet.
I've started sharing pieces of the book online. A few images. A little music. A door. A chair. Seventeen stories waiting on the other side.
Apparently, that was enough.
I've had people tell me the videos are creepy.
I've had people tell me they're intrigued.
I've had people tell me they're not sure they want to know what's behind the door.
And,...
A year ago, I was getting ready to put Teeth in the Silence into the world.
I thought I knew what came next.
I did not.
Teeth in the Silence was personal in a way that is difficult to explain without simply handing someone the book. It came from trauma, survival, memory, silence, and everything that remains after you have lived through something you once weren't certain you would survive.
After it was finished, I started writing fiction.
Then I wrote another story.
And another.
Somewhere along the...
Echoes from the Silence of Those Who Read It
When I first started writing Teeth in the Silence, I never imagined it would speak back.
But it has.
Each review, each message, each line from a stranger has become another echo in the dark; proof that the book didn’t end on its last page. It kept breathing through the people who found it.
These are some of the voices that answered back:
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“This book didn’t make me feel better — it made me feel understood.”
— Patty, Amazon Verified Purchase
“His poems...
I’ve learned that silence isn’t empty.
It remembers.
You can try to bury it under conversation, laughter, a stranger’s music leaking through your walls, but it listens. It learns the weight of everything you never said, and it keeps score in echoes.
When I wrote Teeth in the Silence, I thought I was chasing ghosts. But I was wrong. The ghosts were chasing me. They wore familiar faces and spoke in familiar rooms, and every time I tried to outwrite them, they just waited for the pen to stop...
There’s a certain kind of magic that happens when words are spoken instead of read.
The page becomes breath.
The silence between lines turns into heartbeat.
When I first started recording Teeth in the Silence, I knew it couldn’t be read by just anyone. The voice had to feel the weight of every pause, the ache, the restraint, the quiet fury beneath the language.
That’s when I heard Cornelius Clarke.
There’s something haunting and beautiful in his delivery, the way he lets a sentence linger, how...
There’s a strange quiet that follows creation.
Not the peaceful kind- the kind that hums just beneath the skin, full of static and heartbeat.
When I released Teeth in the Silence, I thought it would feel like an ending- a closing of every page I’d written through sleepless nights and quiet wars. But it isn’t. It’s an echo that keeps reshaping itself each time someone reads a line out loud, each time a stranger on TikTok writes, “I felt that.”
These poems weren’t meant to be polished. They were...
It’s strange seeing something you wrote in the dark finally step into the light.
Teeth in the Silence is officially out in the world, and I’ve been sitting here trying to find the right words for what that means - for me, and maybe for you too.
This book began as a way to survive myself. I wasn’t trying to write a collection or chase publication. I was just trying to make sense of the echoes; the things that stayed long after they should have left. Each piece came from somewhere quiet and...