As a child, I didn’t care much about reading or writing. I was a slow reader and one of those left-handed writers that teachers in the late 1950’s thought should be taught to write right-handed. My penmanship looked as confused as I felt and I shied away from anything literary for decades.
My fascination with people took hold when I was twelve years old, delivering newspapers to every corner of my small home town. It was often the people that society tended to shy away from, that I found great joy in spending time with.
As a teen in the late 1960’s, I was confronted with my inability to change my sexual orientation. I’d known from an early age that I wasn’t like the other boys. I felt my pleas to God were unanswered. It never dawned on me that maybe I was exactly who I was created to be.
Over the years, I crossed this nation and back again, living in large cities and tiny rural towns. I’ve held jobs from sweeping floors to corporate management. Several years ago, in recovery from chemical dependency, I began to use writing as a tool for self-discovery as well as self-expression. I slowly came to love writing stories, largely to see what the characters might do next. Many stories later, Franklin was born.
Franklin Harrison is seventeen years old and about to enter his senior year of high school. Tormented by the teachings of his church that condemn him, he is desperate to change who he is. Franklin struggles to conform to what he has been taught is God’s will for him. This change that he seeks never comes.
When he loses the small solace he found in his love of photography and abandons his camera, any glimmer of hope slips away. He can no longer face the God he believes in or himself.
With all hope gone, the miracle of grace that is extended to him opens the door to a journey that soothes his soul. It leads Franklin to discover, and then share, the love and beauty that is within and around him.