There’s a moment in Last of the Mohicans that has lived inside me for decades. The younger daughter stands on the edge of a cliff, the music rising like a heartbeat. She looks at the man who intends to take her. His hand outstretched. Then back at the chasm behind her. She hesitates. She chooses. She jumps. That scene carved itself into me. That breath‑held, soul‑splitting moment is my benchmark for a great story.

I have a confession. Some days, the state of the world feels so bleak that I catch myself wishing something dramatic would shake society awake. Something that would force us to confront the widening gulf between the haves and the have-nots. The United States is one of the wealthiest nations on the planet, yet millions of people struggle just to survive. It’s heartbreaking, and yes, it makes me angry.