Doorways have always intrigued me—in-between spaces that hold the promise of something . . . different. This doorway looks as though it stands between one marvelous, ivy-garlanded space and another, possibly equally marvelous space. The suggestion of the hallowed halls of a university conjures in me the remembered thrill of every new school year. The hint of golden light peering from just beyond the inner door intrigues me.

As a writer, I think a lot about what makes a hero—or a villain, for that matter. And it’s not just about developing character and story arc; stories, for me, are a way of making sense of the world. So in pondering the concept of heroism, the question isn’t whether a particular character dons a brightly-colored cape and reveals heretofore unknown super powers, but rather whether a real person voluntarily helps others, even when that choice may involve sacrifice and/or risk.