This morning, I’m not in one of my usual writing haunts: Rogue Roasting Company in Ashland, Oregon; Coffee Bach in Phoenix, OR; or Lumina, on the Ashland Plaza downtown. I’m at home in my tiny RV office. My “office” consists of the passenger’s chair, turned around to face the living area. I have a small laptop desk with an additional monitor attached to the cabinet that holds food plus pots and pans. And, of course, a cup of coffee is only a hand’s reach away.

I’m here instead of out-and-about because we had one of those rare Southern Oregon snowstorms that shuts things down. We’re at the tail end of it, the point at which frozen ice starts to melt and slide from overhanging branches. Over my head? A massive redwood tree. Every few minutes, something crashes onto the RV roof. The sound is loud, a boom that startles enough to make me jump.

This morning, I read a blog post by a children’s writer whose books feature only his first name: Avi. In the children’s lit world—where I spent most of my editing and writing career—Avi is writing royalty. His blog featured a list of quotes by writers, about writing. This one hit me like a chunk of ice.

“The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself.”

— Albert Camus

I’ve written for kids, and now I write cozy mysteries. That might not seem like the kind of writing that could prevent the extinction of modern civilization, but kids books and mysteries do introduce us to binaries that help us understand humanity: cooperation vs. competition, good vs. evil, hurt vs. healing, peace vs. war, murder versus, well… problem solving without being murdery.

The underlying theme of my most recent book, Silenced in Seaside, is the silencing of women, of people of color, of immigrants, and of indigenous peoples. I try not to tromp around in heavy boots thematically, and hopefully I don’t do that here. It’s a mystery, complete with Surrey cycles, moonlit beaches, Mexican mochas, vintage RVs, and a sleuth who is determined to catch a criminal, despite being out of her depth time and again.

Here in the States, we are in the season of ice, and of I.C.E. The boom of ice falling on my roof. The boom of shots being fired at and into U.S. citizens. In the chill of this icy winter, I will not tell my readers and followers what to think. I will only ask that they read widely, and that they think.

Meanwhile, I will continue to write books that show light vs. darkness, kindness vs. cruelty, and predation vs. protection. I will write books to remind myself, and my readers, that turning on a light when it’s dark can change night into day. I will remember in my life, and in my writing, that goodness in the face of malice can sometimes crack open the most frozen of hearts and transform a person in real life, as well as on the page.