I was born on a Friday the 13th. Glad to have come into the world at all, and having lived a life filled with good fortune, I don’t buy into the bad-luck belief about a random date. Friday the 13th is not inherently different from Friday the 14th, or any other day, for that matter.
I do, however, get it that misfortune happens—to me, to everyone. Sometimes it’s self-inflicted, other times beyond control. Regardless, it’s not a matter of if things are going to go off the rails, just when. The key, it seems, is not how to avoid adversity—you can’t, despite what our culture at large tries to tell-sell you—but how to handle it once it happens. This is the stuff that life is made of. And stories: a character’s day is smoothing along as planned, and then BOOM, lightning strikes. Or, in the case of my new novel, in a moment of stupidity they throw a lit M-80 from a bridge into a forested canyon. Now let’s see what you’re made of, Evan Lowe. Yes, this is a test.