Growing up in south Georgia, my parents had a bedtime rule: I could stay up 30 minutes later if – and only if – I spent that time reading. So each night, I huddled in my bed reading all kinds of books – from Hardy Boys to Star Trek to anything I could get my hands on.

Sometime around middle school, a friend got me hooked on the Dragonlance series by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. In high school, the same friend handed me the first book of Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series.

“The first 300 pages kinda suck,” he told me as we walked to our cars after soccer practice. “But after that, it’s really good.”

I was hooked on fantasy novels. I read every book Wheel of Time book that had been published at the time (I eventually finished the series many years later). I read and re-read Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion. I couldn’t put down Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn books. I read Game of Thrones long before there was a television show. I loved Brent Weeks’ Night Angel trilogy. Sabaa Tahir’s Ember in the Ashes series was stunning and beautiful and brilliant. I would devour any and every adventure of Locke Lamora in Scott Lynch’s Gentleman Bastard series. The magic system in Brian McClellan’s Powder Mage series was as original as his engrossing books.

In the midst of all this, something strange happened. In 2014, the seed of a story popped into my mind. 

Nah, I thought to myself. I’m not an author. I work at nonprofits in Washington, D.C. I have a Religious Studies degree. Best to leave the novel-writing to those who have the good sense not to use a phrase like “novel-writing.“

Over the years, that seed of an idea would not go away. It nagged at me from time to time, blossoming from one character into an entire world. As I rode to work in the morning, my mind would visit that realm and see thrilling adventures. As I nodded off to sleep, an expanding cast of characters would grow and evolve, demanding to be heard.

While I loved reading the works of others, there was a story I wanted to read but could not find.

With the support of my amazing wife, I dedicated the time and energy to put those ideas on paper. Day by day, the world and story grew. Words became paragraphs, and paragraphs grew into chapters. Chapters were edited, rewritten, deleted, and brought back from the discard pile. Friends and strangers gave their time to read drafts, providing invaluable feedback (and sometimes sending chapters back to the discard pile).

After many years, I now have the story I long wanted to read. The world—and those characters—now exist in the pages of a completed manuscript. And soon, the book will be available for purchase.

For those who want a more traditional biography, here ya go:

Dan Desai Martin received a B.A. in Religious Studies from Berry College. After graduating, he worked as an advocate for international development organizations, as a journalist, and most recently as a communications consultant. He lives with his spouse in Silver Spring, Maryland.