Christa Allan is a true southern gem whose essays have been published in two Chicken Soup anthologies, Cup of Comfort, and The Ultimate Teacher, as well as her wonderful contributions to Exemplify and Afictionado, the e-zine of American Christian Fiction Writers. Though writing is nothing new for Ms. Allan, she has just released her debut novel Walking on Broken Glass, an inspirational, uplifting and enduring novel sure to touch hearts everywhere from every realm.
Ms. Allan is the mother of five grown children, a grandma to three treasures and a high school English teacher. She resides in Abita Springs, Louisiana with her husband, Ken and their three furry cat kids.
I am thrilled to share the following interview with readers between myself and Christa Allan. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Once you have finished reading it, I truly hope that you take the time to check out Walking on Broken Glass.
First of all, could you tell us a bit about Walking on Broken Glass? What is the story about, who are the characters, etc.
My debut novel tells the story of Leah Thornton, a woman whose life looks pretty from the outside; she seems to “have it all.” But appearances can be deceiving because she’s a mess. She drinks to numb her pain, and, until her friend confronts her with the truth, she thinks no one else has noticed. Leah admits herself to rehab, and the novel — told from Leah’s point of view — follows her through her recovery as she attempts to discover who she really is and what she’s willing to sacrifice to find out.
Do you have a favorite excerpt from Walking on Broken Glass? Could you share that with us, please?
This is the Prologue:
If I had known children break on the inside and the cracks don’t surface until years later, I would have been more careful with my words.
If I had known some parents don’t live to watch grandchildren grow, I would have taken more pictures and been more careful with my words.
If I had known couples can be fragile and want what they are unprepared to give or unwilling to take, I would have been more careful with my words.
If I had known teaching lasts a lifetime, and students don’t speak of their tragic lives, I would have been more careful with my words.
If I had known my muscles and organs and bones and skin are not lifetime guarantees that when broken, snagged, unstitched or unseemly, can not be returned for replacement, I would have been kinder to the shell that prevents my soul from leaking out.