Being Equally Yoked in Gunslinger to the Galaxy

At its core, Gunslinger to the Galaxy is a space-opera story built around a deceptively simple question: what does it mean to be equally yoked when the universe is coming apart at the seams? Jane Kletchka isn’t just trying to save Earth; she’s trying to build a marriage, a family, and a vocation that all matter in an honest, eternal way. The story keeps circling back to this tension: how do you stay true to your gifts, your faith, and your partner when war, politics, and Immortal-sized crises keep demanding more?

Where the Idea Came From

When I wrote Gunslinger to the Galaxy, I was working part-time at a warehouse in Iowa and later grinding through a 40+ hour per week construction job in Utah. I wasn’t married yet, but it was something I definitely wanted in my life, and I poured that into my writing, forcing myself to write a few hundred words a day even when I was exhausted and everything around me felt like a dump.

That experience of trying to build something meaningful in the middle of chaos is baked into Jane and Sam’s story. At its heart, Gunslinger to the Galaxy is about two people trying to be a force for good while the universe keeps trying to knock them flat. I kept that theme close even through the difficult circumstances surrounding its writing—and, fittingly, around the time I finished the book, I also met the woman who would become my wife.

How Being Equally Yoked Shapes the Story

“Equally yoked” isn’t just a passing phrase in this book; it’s the backbone of Jane’s entire arc. From the early garden conversation with her mother—where Mom worries that Jane will end up standing in Sam’s shadow instead of using her own God-given talents as a xenolinguist—the story keeps pressing on a single pressure point: is this marriage helping both partners become what they’re meant to be, or is one being swallowed by the other’s path?

When the jumpgate network collapses and the Immortal civil war throws the galaxy into crisis, Jane has every excuse to curl up and let events happen to her. Instead, the story turns when she realizes she can’t just be “the gunslinger’s wife.” Drawing on Sam’s blunt insight about control and trauma, she chooses to use her training, her languages, and her brain to actually shape events—digging into logs, mapping networks, and turning her grief and fear into concrete action that can save lives and maybe bring Sam home. Being equally yoked here means more than just sharing a last name; it means each partner brings their full self to the fight, and the marriage becomes a shared mission instead of a sacrifice of one person’s calling to the other’s.

By the end, when Jane and Sam are sealed in the temple and begin building a family, the book circles back to that original fear: will motherhood and marriage erase Jane’s larger purpose? The answer is no—but not because the galaxy gets easier. Instead, the story shows her finding ways to balance remote work for the Andromedans and the Intergalactic Council with raising John Moses, weaving vocation, faith, and family into a single, hard-won whole. The adventure isn’t over; it’s just moved into a new phase where “equally yoked” means building a life that can withstand both warp drives and diapers.

What Being Equally Yoked Says About Us

In science fiction, we often see lone-wolf heroes or solitary saviors, but Gunslinger to the Galaxy takes a different path by centering a married-couple partnership in a space-opera setting. Under all the jumpgates and Immortals, this is a story about something very human: the fear that love will cost us our calling—or that our calling will cost us love. Most of us aren’t piloting starships, but we know what it feels like to worry that marriage, family, career, or faith will pull us in different directions until something breaks. Gunslinger to the Galaxy suggests a different model: the people we love most should help us become more ourselves, not less. Being equally yoked doesn’t mean never struggling or never disagreeing; it means pulling the same direction when the load gets heavy, and trusting that God can turn two flawed people into a team that does more good together than either could alone.

Why Being Equally Yoked Matters to Me

I wasn’t married when I wrote Gunslinger to the Galaxy, but it was definitely something I was looking forward to. I wrote it during a season of my life that was chaotic, exhausting, and frankly not very glamorous, but I pushed forward anyway, trusting that the kind of woman I hoped to marry someday would value that dedication. And sure enough, when I finally met her, one of the things that drew her to me was my hard work and dedication to my writing—a dedication that I have also channeled into our marriage and family life.

For me, Gunslinger to the Galaxy is a story about faith, marriage, and the stubborn belief that ordinary people can still choose to do the right thing together, even when it hurts. If this book resonates with you, I hope it’s because you see a bit of your own struggle to be “equally yoked” in a world that always seems on the brink—and you feel a little more hope that it’s worth the fight.

Where to Get the Book

Related Posts and Pages

Explore the series index for the Gunslinger Trilogy.

Return to the book page for Gunslinger to the Galaxy.

Is Gunslinger to the Galaxy for you?

See all of my books in series order.

The Loss of Innocence in Edenfall

Edenfall is a young adult first contact science fiction story about a paradise that doesn’t fall to invasion, but awakens to adulthood. Set on an isolated colony world, it blends coming-of-age, alien-world survival, and military first contact, telling a story where the shock isn’t meeting the unknown—it’s realizing that humanity is the unknown.

All of us are born innocent, but none of us can grow up and stay that way. What happens when innocence is shattered by forces beyond our control? Can lost innocence ever be reclaimed—or does the very act of reclaiming it make it something else?

These were my thoughts as I wrote Edenfall. From those seeds grew a story about childhood, family, first contact, coming of age, and the tragedy of how confronting evil forces us to grow up.

Where the Idea Came From

After I wrote Genesis Earth, I knew I wanted to turn it into a trilogy someday. I also knew that Michael and Terra’s idyllic paradise would not remain isolated forever. So I began to ask myself: what would happen when their children—raised entirely outside of human civilization—encounter humanity for the first time, with all of its violence, possessiveness, flaws, and messiness?

As the ideas came together, I realized that I was writing a different kind of first contact story—not a story of discovery, but a first contact science fiction story of intrusion and loss, told through the eyes of a girl who never knew humanity included armies, geopolitics, militarization, or hidden agendas. In other words, I was writing a story about the loss of innocence.

How the Loss of Innocence Shapes the Story

In Edenfall, every choice Estee makes is a response to the forces that ultimately shatter her world. The adults think in terms of strategies, secrets, and keeping their family safe, but Estee and her siblings have no concept of these things. Instead, the children ask themselves things like: why do we have to go away? What are my parents trying to hide? Who are these people, and why do Mommy and Daddy fear them?

Estee’s journey is not merely one of survival, but the collapse of everything she thinks she knows. By the time things get violent, her world has already ended, because contact itself changed the rules of innocence. That tension—between wonder and dread, belonging and displacement—drives every emotional beat of the book.

What the Loss of Innocence Says About Us

We live in a world where children inherit consequences they did not choose for themselves. Edenfall reflects the quiet tragedy of that handoff: that sometimes the most precarious moment in life is not the arrival of the monsters, but the arrival of adults who aren’t immediate members of our family.

All of us lose our innocence at some point in our lives—and once it is lost, we can never gain it back. That is the tragedy of growing up. But even though we cannot reclaim our innocence, we can become pure again—and purity is stronger and more resilient than innocence. As Estee struggles with the trauma of betrayal and violence, she ultimately learns this lesson as well.

Why This Theme Matters to Me

For many years, I tried to write this book but found it just wouldn’t come. Then I became a father, and suddenly everything just clicked. I think a large part of that had to do with this theme of the tragedy of innocence lost, and the importance of family to guide and protect us through that. This was something I couldn’t fully understand until I had gained that life experience, and I think it made the book much richer as a result.

n the end, Edenfall became a young adult science fiction story about first contact, not as a moment of discovery, but as a moment of collision. It is a coming-of-age novel where paradise is not lost through rebellion or choice, but through the arrival of the wider human world—with all of its fear, power, and politics. In many ways, Edenfall is a first contact story where the aliens are us, and growing up means realizing that the universe is bigger, darker, and far more complicated than childhood ever prepared us for.

Where to Get the Book

Related Posts and Pages

Explore the series index for the Genesis Earth Trilogy.

Visit the book page for Genesis Earth for more details.

Find out if Edenfall is for you.

See all of my books in series order.