By ten pm November 8, 2016, along with most of the world, I had traveled through the looking glass. How could this man have become our next president? It wasn’t possible.
But it was. Every day since then, we’ve seen him chip away at our democracy, norms, and world standing. From the nearly five thousand lies the Washington Post claims he’s told, to flimflam meetings with the leaders of North Korea and Russia, the past two years have seen continuous assaults on the media, the FBI, and the agencies charged with protecting our health, safety, and freedom.
Personally, the effect on me was calamitous. I felt paralyzed: I couldn’t write, and I couldn’t talk about anything except the state of our nation. I probably drove away many people who previously thought I was a nice person. For a year I let my rage control me. My only solace was journalists and people like Louise Mensch, John Schindler, and Claude Taylor . . . and of course, my refuge, the Resistance Facebook group, Investigation of the Trump-Russia Conspiracy in the 2016 Election. Suzy Fischer (no relation, by the way), to whom this book is dedicated, started the group about three days after the election. I joined the first week.
By last November, however, I came to realize that I had given the occupant of the Oval Office all my power, especially where my writing was concerned. I’d brainstormed two different novels during the fallow period, but they didn’t resonate with me. Then came the eureka moment. I was reading posts on the Investigation site one day when I realized my next novel had been staring me in the face. I needed to write about the group, its leader, and the climate in which we Americans find ourselves.
One thing to keep in mind: I write suspense fiction, so I’ve taken many liberties with characters, plot lines, and action. Some characters might remind you of specific people—I assure you they all came from my addled brain. But the theme of the story didn’t. It is a cautionary tale, which I hope is nearly over and one that our country will not face again.
I also beg your indulgence. I was born and raised in Washington, DC. It’s the only place I know that when you’re at the dinner table gossiping about the neighbors, you’re talking politics. It’s in my blood.