ABOUT ME
My name is Rachael Kelley, and I'm fortunate to call many places "home" (Ohio, New Jersey, North Carolina, and most recently, Southeastern Pennsylvania).
I graduated from Appalachian State with a degree in English / Professional Writing, and now I work as a Marketing and Design Specialist for a biotechnology company.
Keep reading to hear the story of The Light We Share and how it shaped me.
MY STORY
Over seven years ago, I was sitting in the back of a subway in New York City when an idea struck me.
I don’t remember what we were doing in the city, or where we were going on the train, but I do remember feeling suddenly curious about the strangers that were taking the journey with me. Everyone was standing or sitting quietly, probably staring at their phones as they passively waited to reach their destination.
I looked around at the people, and I was awestruck by the number of unknown stories that existed just beyond my width of knowledge. Each of these strangers had an intrinsically complex history that I would never know, and yet somehow we were sharing this moment together. Where were these people going? What had brought them on this exact train? Why had our paths aligned at this moment in time—and would they ever intersect again?
My fascination with these strangers on the subway blossomed into an idea of a character who I named Alex. I was 16 years old when I started writing the first draft of what would eventually become my honors thesis project, The Light We Share. The original draft from 2015 was much different than what it is now, but the image of a girl on a train still remained the core of the story.
TRY, TRY AGAIN
Since 2015 I worked on the project on and off, learning frustration and self-criticism, but in between, passion, patience, and a fierce love for the world I was creating.
Every time I tried to leave this world and its characters, it came back to me. It followed me from high school in New Jersey to college in the Appalachian mountains. It followed me from a dusty road in Nepal to my honors thesis meetings over Zoom. And even when I thought I had reached the finish line, here it is again, following me as I brave my way through my first year as a young professional.
Every time I’ve left and come back to the many versions of this story I’ve written, I found myself disappointed in what I had created. Each version seemed like “the one” when I was working on it, but once I had marched forward several months and turned back to look at it, I grew dispassionate. What I had created was never good enough.
But here I am, a year after submitting my thesis book of short stories, and I’m surprised at the passion that filled me as I reread those words I had written. Those words, which had come out of so many years of trial and error, of enthusiasm and criticism and everything in between.
I always wanted to get it right on the first try. Even though I was told by so many people that “it took [insert the name of a great author] years before their work got published,” I wanted to be the kind of person who aces it immediately and then moves onto something new. But for some reason this story stuck with me. Though sometimes I wanted to leave it behind, I always came back to it and worked to make it better, and now the years had passed and I am finally smiling as I read my story.
A PART OF ME
This story is special to me. Not just because of the long path it’s taken, the reshaping and rewriting and rethinking I’ve done. But because I love the characters. I love the story. It all feels so real to me—so personal, like it was my responsibility to keep breathing life into this world.
This book (if it can be called that now) is untraditional in construction. There are 10 stories—or chapters—that can stand alone, but they are meant to be read together. You can’t get the full story by just reading one—it’d be like looking at one puzzle piece and thinking you had the whole picture.
The Light We Share is about letting our darkness show so the light can touch and heal it, and so we can then share that light with others. Sometimes we pass the light directly. Sometimes we watch it pass between others. Sometimes we see the light, sometimes we feel it, and sometimes we never know it’s there—but it is.
This story represents my love letter to writing, and to life. I often forget that I’m a writer. Sometimes I hesitate to even call myself that because I don’t feel like a true writer. But this book—this piece of art that has been born out of so many years of work—is something I’m proud of.
HERE WE ARE
I had no idea the book I started writing in scribbles on the side of my high school class notes would still make me feel the way it does today. And that’s why I feel the need to share it. It’s been sitting on my laptop for almost a year, read by only a handful of people. But I’m ready to put it out into the world.
I’m not looking for wild success. I’m not looking for this to launch a full-on career as a novelist. I’m publishing this work because it’s a cultivation of my love and passion, and I’ve never been brave enough to take this step until now.
I love it. I hope others find joy in it too—but that’s not what’s important. The important thing is that even though I wanted to give up and shove it all away so many times, I couldn’t. And I didn’t, because it made me feel alive.
So here's to the daydreaming, brainstorming, midnight writing, editing, scribbling, doubting, learning, hoping, and joy that this project brought me through the years. Here’s to the light, the darkness, and everything in between.