I don’t remember the first time I heard José González's haunting cover of "Heartbeats." I’m sure it was a result of the Spotify algorithm sending it my way because it seemed similar to other songs I’d been drawn to. And, because the universe delivers us what we need, I was served González's stripped-down acoustic arrangement which perfectly captured the raw emotional atmosphere I was trying to create in my novel — that delicate balance between devastation and intimacy.

Throughout my writing journey with When The Trees All Burned, one question has haunted me: If you could only save 200 people, how would you choose?

For Rajiv Montgomery Noah, the answer lies in an algorithm. Through a sophisticated blend of genetics, skills, and psychological profiles, his computer program determines who is worthy of salvation. But worthiness is complex. What makes one person more deserving than another?

I first heard "More to This" on the radio during a long drive home. The opening lines about contemplating death and what lies beyond immediately seized my attention — they perfectly echoed the questions my characters wrestle with throughout When the Trees All Burned. Before the song was even over, I knew it belonged on the novel's soundtrack.

The haunting lyrics of First Aid Kit's "The Lion's Roar" resonate deeply with the themes and imagery in When The Trees All Burned. Released in January 2012 as the title track of the Swedish folk duo's second album, the song carries a weight that seems almost prophetic when paired with my upcoming novel.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to know exactly when and how the world will end?

When Rajiv Montgomery Noah was 11 years old, his mother lay dying from industrial poison in Bhopal, India. She pressed a brass lion into his palm and told him he would be the solution to earth's destruction. That same night, he received a vision of fire that would consume the world.

Music is an integral part of my life but it is not part of my writing. I prefer my writing soundtrack to be that of the tapping of keys or the scratching of a pen. I love the depth of silence.