The Empty Chair in the Room – Behind the Pages | Juliet Ellison Fiction

When I finished Letters from Willow Creek, I wanted to tell someone.

Not just anyone. Him.

My husband was the one who always believed I could write a book—even when I didn’t. The one who handled all the tech things I avoided, the one who would’ve set up my website and fixed whatever I broke without even blinking. For years, I was using his old iMac Pro to get by, limping through updates and figuring things out as best I could.

But during Letters, I finally got a new computer. I installed the software. I organized my files. I built the whole darn author system from scratch. I formatted the book. I made the cover. I figured out everything he would’ve handled—and I did it.

And I kept wishing I could tell him. 
Because I know exactly what he’d say.

“Of course you did, babe. I always told you—you should write books.”

There’s an ache in that. The quiet kind that lingers in the background when the work is done and the chair beside you is still empty. But there’s something else too.

There’s pride. There’s growth. There’s the quiet joy of telling the story anyway—even if the person you want to tell can’t hear it.

And maybe, if you’ve ever felt that same ache… you’ll find a little piece of yourself in these pages too.

Because you’re not the only one sitting beside an empty chair.