The Angel At The Train Station

Sometimes in our life, things happen that make no sense. Events that cause hearts to break, bring unbearable pain, create lasting scars and take forever to heal. This book was written, not to make sense of those things, for that would be too presumptuous. It was written by a friend for a friend to give a little comfort in her time of grief. May it give comfort and solace to others as well. More

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About Shuju Lau

When I was eight, I won a short-story writing contest. That was the last time I wrote a story in 30 years that wasn't for school, work or just because I wanted to write a story.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. In high school I wrote an LGBT romance that took up eight large notebooks with tiny lines. In college, I wrote for a newspaper and a radio station writing radio plays in the vernacular. They let me tell the stories I wanted, so I guess those count.

After college, however, I went into advertising. I got too busy writing to write. I wrote stories for brands, for politicians, milks, electric companies, shampoos, banks, shopping centers and more. Sure I wrote for people, and I tried to stay honest, but there was something missing. But I didn't care much, I had a job that paid well. Stories could wait.

In 2009, everything fell apart. And I wrote even more. More words. Less important. I wrote everything: articles, blog posts, ebooks, ads and more ads, at least 7,000 words a day.

I did, however manage to squeeze in a few stories for my friends. I was too broke to buy them proper gifts, soI wrote stories every time someone had a birthday. Yael's story was a birthday story too, I suppose. Just not the joyous birthday that everyone had hoped.

In 2013, I realized that I was losing my words. When I speak, my sentences become garbled. I have always had trouble speaking in public, but for some reason, it became worse last year. Tests showed a spot, nonspecific, in the part of my brains that controls verbal skills.

That was when I realized the stories cannot wait. That spot in my brain can either grow bigger or stay the same size, I don't know. But what I know is this: if I am losing my words, then I had better get them out now.

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