Brighter Than the Sun follows an ambitious performer dreaming of opening a club and a cautious business student learning to trust desire as they build a romance and a community where dignity and passion share the spotlight. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?

One of the first images that came to me was Blake as a young boy, singing and dancing for his mother and dreaming of being a star. Because he struggled in school with undiagnosed learning disabilities, he grew into a man who reached for the performance venues that felt accessible to him – adult entertainment and exotic dancing.

I wanted to explore what happens when a man who has been celebrated for being sexually desirable starts to wonder whether people can see the artist underneath. Could he be admired for his body and still be taken seriously as a performer?

I drew a lot of inspiration from the TV show Girls5Eva. Like the girl group at the center of that show, Blake’s story is about reinvention. His evolution doesn’t involve rejecting his past as a sex worker – it’s about integrating that experience into his performance style. His burlesque club allows him to showcase all his talents: singing, dancing, costume design, theatricality, humor, and sex appeal. He creates a venue where he can be sexy on his own terms, while finally building the kind of stage he always dreamed of having.

Ethan’s journey involves shame, family expectations, and learning to trust his own desires. What did you want readers to understand about his growth?​

I wanted readers to understand that Ethan isn’t prudish or judgmental. His caution around sex comes partly from his father’s belief that Ethan has to be “respectable” to succeed as a gay man, and partly from self-preservation. When he met his friend Zane and tried being more sexually adventurous, he was hurt by a disrespectful hookup. That experience reinforced his father’s message that sexual freedom and self-respect were at odds with each other.

Then Ethan meets Blake, a man who is the opposite of everything his father considers respectable, and discovers that Blake is clever, sensitive, generous, and caring. That forces Ethan to confront the beliefs he’s internalized. He finally realizes he’s been making himself smaller in order to earn his father’s approval.

Ethan’s growth is about rejecting the idea that there is one “correct” way to be gay. He gets to decide what desire, love, and respect look like for him. In the end, he learns that true respect doesn’t come from performing an acceptable version of yourself – it comes from living honestly.

The transformation of The Firehouse into Siren gives the romance a strong community-centered backbone. How did the club storyline evolve as you wrote the book?​

When I began writing the novel, The Firehouse was mostly the launchpad for Blake’s dream. It was where he honed his skill as a dancer, and where he got his first taste of performing for a live audience. When the club was threatened by a developer, it gave Blake something concrete to fight for: a beloved space he could transform into Siren, the burlesque club he’d always wanted to open.

As the story developed, though, The Firehouse became a character in its own right. At one time, it had been the beating heart of a vibrant gay community. But as dating apps changed the way men met and socialized, the club fell into disrepair. Although the building is a little worse for wear, it’s alive with a rich history stretching back over a century. Blake’s vision for Siren honors the building’s historic role in the gay community while giving the club a future: a place where men can once again gather to watch a show, have fun, and maybe fall in love.

The men Blake works with also came into clearer focus as the story progressed. Although they began as incidental side characters, they eventually became a quirky found family: a ragtag group of men with big personalities who love Blake and support his dream of opening Siren. Virgil, the salty owner of The Firehouse, surprised me the most. He started as more of a comic relief character, but as my understanding of the club deepened, he became a father figure to the dancers – someone who loves his boys, even when he’s grumbling at them through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

Blake’s dyslexia is woven into his daily life without defining him entirely. How did you approach writing that aspect of his character?​

Because he struggled in school, Blake spent most of his life thinking he wasn’t smart enough for the things he wanted. Over time, he became very good at using self- deprecating humor as a shield. He beats people to the punchline so they can laugh with him instead of at him. Playing the himbo hurts less than letting people see how much he struggles.

But he’s also charming, sexy, funny, and resourceful. Ethan sees that right away. Ethan doesn’t try to “fix” Blake. He recognizes Blake’s struggle, and gives him the language to understand something he’s been experiencing his entire life. Blake’s diagnoses of dyslexia and dyscalculia don’t change who he is – they change the story he tells about himself.

I wanted his diagnosis to feel less like an impairment and more like a door opening. Once Blake understands that his brain just works differently from other people, he’s free. He can finally stop making his dreams smaller to fit inside his old, limited idea of himself.

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