Not all stories come with contrasting pleasant and tragic parts – some are tales of pain and trauma in their entirety. Stories of women set in ancient times, especially Biblical women, often reflect the violence, trauma, oppression, and coercion that formed the societal norm. So the challenge as a writer isn’t whether to acknowledge that reality, but how. How do you honor the weight of what women endured while still caring for the reader who has to walk through those moments with you?

That was the struggle I had to deal with while writing Beyond the Well, especially in the chapters involving Mordecai. His violence toward Photine isn’t sensational, and it isn’t included for shock value. It’s included because it reflects the world women lived in—gender, ownership, dominance, and fear braided tightly together within the cultural boundaries. But even when the story required acknowledging what he did, I didn’t want to drag the reader into graphic detail. I didn’t want to write scenes that centered on his brutality. Instead, I turned the attention on the one suffering—the moment Photine’s breath caught, the way her mind pulled away from her body, the flicker of shame that wasn’t hers to carry. The story is told from her perspective, honoring humility and strength, without lending too much attention to his doings. For me, that distinction matters.

Violence against women has been exploited in storytelling far too often. It’s become a shortcut for drama, a lazy way to give a villain “depth,” or, worse, an attempt to make suffering entertaining. I refuse to participate in that. Some things need to be said; hiding away from violence completely is also being disloyal to the story. But not everything needs to be shown. Sometimes the rawest truth focuses on emotional healing rather than physical ordeal.