Framed in Love follows a man who, after a lightning strike, has the ability to step inside a fading painting where he falls in love with a woman trapped inside it. What was the first spark behind the idea of stepping into a painting?
The story started with an actual painting that I own. The date of the painting is 1858; it is of a Victorian woman who has a striking resemblance to my wife. So, I thought, if I wanted to know this woman, how could I get to know her? I would have to enter the painting to strike up a conversation. Hence, the lightning strike, because there is something mysterious about lightning.
How did David evolve as you wrote the book?
I introduced the twist that the painting fades each time David enters. I did that for a reason. David, with the help of Abby, sees himself differently. Instead of viewing love as something risky or temporary, he begins to see it as transformative and grounding. Earlier in the story, David often reacts to situations emotionally or defensively. As his bond with Abby deepens, he becomes more intentional by choosing honesty over avoidance and commitment over uncertainty.
The book explores love as both connection and sacrifice. What drew you to that tension?
What drew me to that tension is that love rarely feels pure or simple in real life. Love is almost always a balance between closeness and cost. In Framed in Love, the relationship between David and Abby works because it recognizes that loving someone deeply often means giving something up: control, certainty, or even parts of the version of yourself you’ve carefully built.
What do you hope readers carry with them after finishing the book?
The most compelling love stories (to me) live in that uncomfortable middle space. Too much connection without sacrifice feels shallow. Too much sacrifice without connection feels destructive. I wanted readers to feel that push-and-pull. The fear of losing yourself versus the desire to belong, because that’s what makes emotional stakes feel real.
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