The Story Behind By the Light of the Bluff

People often ask where the idea came from. Why a lighthouse? Why 1873? Why this woman—Jesse Whitmore—arriving with nothing but a carpetbag and a secret?

The truth is, the story didn’t begin with her. It began with the island.

For over twenty years, my family and I have returned to Saint Simons Island. Summer after summer, we’ve walked its beaches, climbed its lighthouse, wandered beneath its live oaks, and listened to the hush of the marsh. Somewhere along the way, I realized: the island was the story. I just needed something—or someone—to happen there.

That’s when Jesse arrived.

I didn’t set out to write a historical novel at first. But Saint Simons has a way of calling up the past. It’s in the wind, in the trees, in the streets that curve where oxcarts once rolled. I imagined a woman fleeing something terrible, stepping onto the dock not to be found—but to disappear. And I imagined a lighthouse rising nearby, still unfinished, casting a light that hadn’t yet learned how to shine.

Jesse’s story became a vessel for the island’s voice. She brought the plot, but the island gave it meaning.

As a landscape architect, I spend my days thinking about how places shape people—and how people shape places. That lens helped me write scenes filled with the sensory detail readers now say they love: the creak of boards underfoot, the salt crust on wind-blown windows, the shimmer of marsh at golden hour. But more than anything, I wanted the island to feel like a character itself—quiet, resilient, and deeply sacred.

By the Light of the Bluff is the book of my heart because it’s rooted in the place that’s meant so much to mine. If you've ever stood on Saint Simons and felt something stir, this story is for you.

Because sometimes the story isn’t about what happens. It’s about where it happens—and why it never lets go.

And yes—part of it is simply because I just love lighthouses.