“What’s in you will come out.”

That’s what my grandmother always said.

She also told me: patterns don’t lie.

I was raised in Portland by my grandparents — pillars in every sense. My grandmother had me reading encyclopedias as a kid and would quiz me afterward. She’d take me to the library and preview every book before I touched it, making sure it fed my mind and spirit. Reading wasn’t just a pastime — it was a doorway. I used to get lost in stories and fascinated by how people lived across different states and towns. I remember reading a book about a salon owner who made it big and thinking… “Maybe I could write too.”

That’s where the pen started.

I began with urban fiction — and I loved it. But deep down, I always knew I wanted to do more than entertain. I wanted to help people think differently. I wanted to help them shift.

Then one day, as I was writing a part two, God tugged on me.

“Stop,” He said. “This genre ends here.”

So I did. I stepped away from it, ready to erase it all — take the older books down and start fresh.

But again, He whispered:

“No. Be still.”

Because those stories… they were part of the process.

They show where I started.

And somebody, somewhere, might need to see that part of the journey too.

Now, I write for the person who wants more — not just on the outside, but within.

The one who knows there’s something greater calling them, even when their surroundings say otherwise.

The one who sees a glimpse of who they’re becoming, and is brave enough to chase it.

When you read my work, I want you to feel a release — like a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

I want you to feel like you just got the keys to your next level.

To know — not wonder — that with Christ, you can do exploits.

This is healing.

This is legacy.

This is me.

– Rayna S.