Some of Loyola’s staff had asked me to come to the school and speak to a group of their freshman and sophomores. You see, throughout my high school career, I had a genuine dislike of all things related to reading and writing. To me, it was boring, difficult, didn’t really matter in the long run, and took up way too much time. Plus, there were easily a dozen other things I would rather do, like hang out with my friends, strum the guitar, watch t.v., play video games, or kick around a soccer ball.

I had the same general attitude throughout college, with the main difference being that, with so much freedom, the list of other things to do besides read and write was much longer in Champaign than it had been at Loyola. As my graduation from the University of Illinois got closer, I found myself in a precarious position. I would be graduating with a double major in Speech Communication and Philosophy. Perfect for a profession in…

I did what I figured any other college senior in my situation would do: I introduced myself to my college counselor and I asked her what I might do upon graduating with such an illustrious double major. I remember her saying, “I’ve only had one student of mine graduate with that same double major. She went to law school.” I recall my counselor’s tone carried a slight degree of skepticism in her response. She must have been looking at my GPA at the time.

Alas, given that I had nothing else going for me, law school was suddenly and undoubtedly the solution. True, I had never in my life desired to be a lawyer. True, it would put me in all kinds of financial debt. True, I would be competing against other men and women who excelled at my weakest attribute. But I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and law school, at the very least, would keep my parents off my back. Plus, it would give me another three years of student life. The longer I could avoid the working world, the better.

Somehow (I’m still not sure how), in the fall of 1998, my application to the Chicago-Kent College of Law was accepted. It was shortly after beginning law school that I had my first dream of Samuel (https://thegiftofsamuel.com/the-glowing-man/). Thus began my dream journal that would slowly transform over the next twenty years into my first novel The Gift of Samuel: Grey Dawn.

During those twenty years, I did what I had to do to make ends meet. I worked for, and with, some great attorneys and successfully assimilated into my professional life. Still, my heart longed for something more. I was grateful to be gainfully employed, but something inside of me was empty, and the practice of law was not filling the void.

It was when I self-published my book that I anticipated the longing inside of me would finally be satisfied. I wanted others to be inspired by the message in the story, which was ultimately about choosing light over dark and holding onto hope in the face of despair. In my rational mind, if I could get just one reader to believe that light will always triumph over darkness, then I would have done my job, and that emptiness inside me would dissipate.

What I didn’t expect was one of the literacy specialists at Loyola Academy asking me to come into the school to share my journey with the students. I was someone that had hated reading and writing as a student, yet, I eventually became an attorney and author. I jumped at the chance to meet with the kids. I’d be one step closer to sharing the message of hope contained in the story, if I could get some of these young adults interested in my book.

My time with the students was magnificent but paled in comparison to what I found inside the card from them after our visit. Messages like “thank you for your inspiring words,” “thank you for sharing your life’s journey,” and “thank you for showing me how your life can change with a positive mindset” filled the card. As I read through the thank yous, it suddenly dawned on me: these were kids who were going to read my book, but, up to that point, had only read a tiny portion of it. They were finding hope in my own life’s story, not in the fictional story of Joshua Barratt as he trudged through Grey Dawn.

Then I came to the line that really got me – “thank you for showing us that one’s greatest weakness can grow to be their greatest strength.” My dream of making a difference in young adults’ lives was coming true, not from the message contained in my book, but in the fact that I pushed myself to write and publish the book. The longing inside me was finally being satisfied, in the most unexpected way. That’s when I put the card down and laughed, with the joy of realizing a dream, and cried, with thankfulness and humility, for the gift that these students gave me.

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“Now that the first draft is wrapping up, do you have all your editors ready for revisions?” Neil asked me.

“Editors? Revisions? No, not really. I mean, I was going to skim over it one time just to make sure I got all the typos.”

I could tell from the look on Neil’s face that my answer was far from the correct one, so I started fishing a little.

“Do you think, maybe, you might know an editor who would read The Gift of Samuel? Is that something you would do? How many editors do I need anyway?”

As always, Neil stayed cool and assisted me through my naïveté.

“I’ll edit your first draft, no problem; it would be my honor. Then you’re going to need fresh sets of eyes for further edits, at least ten of them, but the more, the better.”

You can imagine my shock when I realized I was going from one skim revision looking for typos to at least ten outside editors. I tried not to think about the anxiety of ten outside editors and concentrated on finishing up the first draft so Neil could be my first editor. On the very night before sending Neil a hardcopy draft, I had another vivid dream of Samuel that altered the story.

In my dream, I was walking with Samuel in this gargantuan warehouse, with all kinds of props and structures scattered around inside it. The warehouse was half indoor, half outdoor, like an open hanger. I’ve never been to a movie set before, but from my limited understanding, this was definitely a movie set. Without any words being exchanged, I suddenly knew that Samuel and I were scouting a location for The Gift of Samuel streaming series.
We walked up to the prop home belonging to Lorrick and Miriam on Elders Row and I could see the three red circles next to the front door.

“What’s up with the red circles?” I asked Samuel

“Joshua is going to need more reason to leave Caulfield. What you have so far isn’t enough. You need to incorporate this into the story.”

As I stood there looking at the house prop and the three red circles, in my mind’s eye it was explained to me how the law the red circles would be added to the story. It was as if the information was downloaded into my conscious and I was instantly aware of this major part of the story that needed to be included in the first draft.

As soon as I woke up, the first thing I did was text Neil, letting him know that the draft hard copy would not be coming in the mail that day as I needed to add something from a dream that I had that night.

Once I incorporated the Law of the Red Circles into the story, I sealed the package containing the first draft and sent it to my friend. He was going to be the first person outside of myself to read The Gift of Samuel. I felt so scared, so vulnerable, sending the story to Neil, but I knew he wouldn’t let me down. I knew Neil would go the extra mile to pull out the good stuff from the otherwise terrible first draft and encourage me to keep working at it. More than that, I knew the story was complete, now that the Law that Red Circles was part of it.

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