I spent one summer in college doing an archaeological dig at a colonial site in Virginia as part of my minor in Anthropology. The surface of the site was littered with artifacts from the present and recent past—beer bottles and assorted other debris. Scraping away the dirt revealed the foundation of a building long gone, bits of broken pottery and tiny glass beads. Archaeology, to me, has always felt a bit like digging backwards through time, and I’ve been wanting to write a story about it for a long time.

Adoption, in a strange way, is a kind of surrogate family-making. I am extremely fortunate to have two parents who love and support me, though this is a complex relationship and one that is far from the status quo. Especially now that I am approaching a societally accepted age for parenting, I am forced to reevaluate these complications with much more vigor than I did when I was younger.

I love writing stories that draw on Indian mythology yet turn the tale around in some unexpected way. In this story, it’s especially fun because I got to write a chase sequence and a battle both at once! So they’re literally chasing after Vrath and attacking him from behind as they try to catch him (or destroy him). That was really fun to write. Chariots and magic arrows and a demi-god who can’t be killed but can be wounded and hurt.

For a long time I have wanted to write a story about space exploration for the rest of us—that is, those of us who are not fighter pilots, crazy wealthy, or even physically fit. So far, space has been reserved for elites, and as long as we insist on sending wetware up there, it’s going to stay that way. But there are other ways! We don’t have to be passive observers of other peoples’ heroism, even in the short run.