Intersection Column | Unexpected Plot Lines

by Joanna Davidson Politano

I do a lot of looking down in this season of my life—down at my computer, down at my nursing babies, down at homeschool planning. These are all beautiful blessings. The best in my life, in fact. But the neck pain I earned had me reevaluating my posture toward this season. “You’re not meant to be looking down so much,” my chiropractor said. I nodded in the moment, but that phrase came back to me through the next weeks.

Humans aren’t designed to look down all the time. God has lavished us with blessings that take our time and attention, but sometimes they consume us. That was definitely true of me. I’d become so wrapped up in the urgent needs of my kids, the demands of homeschooling, the joy of living out my writing dream, that I was forgetting to look up.

I was focused on the gift, and not the giver.

As I worked through my physical therapy and practiced looking up, I began to do the same with my heart. I took my eyes off my earthly gifts for a time, throughout the chaos of the day, and reconnected with the One who’d given these things to me. Over and over in the midst of the busy day, I found myself glancing up, leaving the urgent needs around me to do what was absolutely vital—connecting to my Father.

It’s funny how I thought I understood the purpose of this story the whole time I was writing it. As if I was so experienced that I just knew what God had in mind for it. He invited me into this particular steampunk-inspired story for the sake of my marriage relationship.

I married an engineer who is intensely logical, practical, and brilliant about the way things work. We talk a lot every evening, but I really wanted to enter into his world the way he’d entered into mine so often. We always talked kids and homeschool and even stories and publishing, so it was with great delight that I turned to him one night and said, “Hey, Vince—can you explain how alternating currents work?”

Two hours later I knew everything there was to know about alternating currents.

It was the most intelligent, thorough, fascinating explanation and the best part was the way my dear husband’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. In the coming evenings he explained in great detail—with Lego sets—how hydraulics worked and how the mechanics in my story of gadgets should go. He lit up every time, and blessed me with an abundance of knowledge and enthusiasm that had been stored up in him all these years. I discovered the treasure trove within my husband and I’ll never forget that moment.

But that wasn’t all this book had in store for me. God wasn’t content to shine up my marriage—he wanted to draw me toward Him, as well. Which all started with neck pain that made me realize where my focus had gone wrong.

So this book was an immense time of reconnection. For two tired parents who get lost in the minutiae of homeschooling and raising babies, and for one very overstretched writer who’d forgotten that she doesn’t have to do this alone.

Connections are so delicate, aren’t they? Sometimes it takes a simple lack of intentionality to loosen those bonds. We don’t always make a hard turn away from someone, there’s not always some huge break, but we drift. We allow ourselves to be distracted . . . and we forget. That’s exactly what this book is about, and what I hope it offers readers—the chance to remember.

As the heroine threw herself into finishing a brilliant automaton, and keeping a hydraulics system running, her author got to step into the world of her brilliant engineer husband. And when the heroine stops trying to prove God scientifically and simply looks up, her author realizes how magnificently God has left His maker’s mark on creation—and on her soul. I’m thankful to quirky Sydney Forrester and her exploration of the large and minute parts of this universe that allowed me to do the same alongside her.

About the Author

Joanna Davidson Politano is the award-winning author of eight historical novels and she loves tales that capture the colorful, exquisite details in ordinary lives. She lives with her husband and their children in a house in the woods near Lake Michigan. You can find her online at JDPStories.com.

About the Book

Clockmaker and tinker Sydney Forrester receives a most unusual inheritance, the island estate of an estranged uncle. The estate is also home to a number of peculiar inventions—and people, including two of the late master’s nephews who are intent on removing Sydney from the island. But when a mysterious man washes ashore, he carries with him a stunning surprise that could upset everything.

Did You Know?

Christian writers are often called to journey into the shadows and confront the darker aspects of human nature. Whether we're writing about grief, addiction, trauma, or despair, we have a unique and powerful opportunity to shine God’s light into these painful places. By addressing these themes through a lens of faith, we can offer readers more than just a story—we offer hope, healing, and truth.

Christian fiction can heal through honesty: When we write authentically about suffering, we create space for readers to feel seen and understood. Stories that portray real-life pain alongside the steadfast love of God help readers process their own struggles. In honest storytelling, Christian fiction becomes a vessel for healing and restoration.
Faith-filled characters offer hope: Characters who lean into their relationship with God in the face of adversity show readers how to do the same. These characters demonstrate what it means to trust God in hard places, offering encouragement and spiritual inspiration to those who may be walking through similar trials.
Writing with purpose starts with prayer: Before diving into heavy topics, it’s important to seek God’s wisdom. Prayer invites the Holy Spirit into our creative process, ensuring our stories reflect God’s mercy and not just the weight of the darkness.

Christian writers are not just storytellers—we’re light-bearers. When we write from a place of faith, even the darkest storylines can point to the hope and redemption found in Christ.

-Mary Alford, Beside the Dead