When 12-year-old Kolby finds himself captive in the penthouse of a 75-story skyscraper with no memory of who he is or how he got there, he must work together with other young captives to unravel the mysteries of the tower before its ultimate, terrifying purpose can be fulfilled.

When 12-year-old Kolby wakes up on the polished concrete floor of an empty white room, he has no memory, no clothes, and no idea where he is. Kolby soon discovers he’s one of a dozen kids living in an extravagant penthouse atop the tallest tower in the city. Adults are nowhere to be found and, like Kolby, all the kids are missing their memories. The kids in the tower spend their time scaling the climbing wall, riding the winding waterslide into an Olympic-sized swimming pool, or playing video games on the 105-inch 8K video screen. A mysterious “manifesting room” magically provides food and rewards. They have virtually everything a kid could want.

Except a way out.

None of the kids show much concern for each other, let alone new arrival Kolby. That is, except for irrepressible Elías, who helps Kolby find his way around the penthouse and informs him of the tower’s “rules”. Elías seems eager for a friend, but Kolby isn’t interested. Haunted by fragments of memories he can’t quite make sense of and driven by the feeling that somewhere out there he has a family that loves him, Kolby just wants to escape the penthouse and go home.

Unfortunately, the only way to get out is by participating in the tower’s enigmatic game—a kind of scavenger hunt that takes place in the surrounding city. Players are chosen for teams by the tower’s apparent leader, Gen. Gen has been in the penthouse longer than anyone else can remember and she’s way past caring much about anything. Unlike Kolby, she has no desire to escape—who’s to say their previous life was better, anyway? But beneath her glib detachment, Gen harbors a secret—she knows more about the tower than she lets on, including the dark, inevitable truth about all their fates. It’s a burden that grows increasingly difficult for her to bear.

When game time arrives, it looks like Kolby has found his ticket out of the tower—but escape isn’t so simple. For one, people outside the tower don’t see the kids as they actually are. Kolby’s pleas for help are either ignored or he’s perceived as a threat. Even more troubling are the gaunts—menacing creatures who may once have been human and whose faces are slowly fading into a mask of featureless flesh. They shadow the kids at the periphery. Watching. Waiting. Stray from the game and they begin to close in…

Determined to escape, Kolby attempts to rally the other kids and work together to unravel the tower’s mysteries. But the closer he comes to answers, the more he suspects that the tower is using them all for its own sinister purpose.

I grew up in Southern California and wanted to be a writer for almost as long as I can remember. Initially, I dreamed of making movies—the first thing I remember writing was a screenplay for a spy spoof in third grade. Eventually, I earned my MFA in screenwriting from UCLA, which indirectly inspired The Tower. The anonymous skyscrapers of downtown LA, glimpsed during meetings for my Amazon show, sparked my curiosity about the hidden worlds behind all that mirrored glass.

A: The Tower is a middle-grade horror novel about a boy who wakes up trapped in a mysterious skyscraper with no memory of how he got there. It’s a creepy, unsettling mystery about identity, curiosity, caring, and finding the courage to question everything—even when it’s dangerous.

A: The idea for The Tower first struck me while driving through downtown Los Angeles, heading to meetings for my Amazon show. Looking up at those anonymous towers with their mirrored glass, I wondered: What actually happens inside those buildings? Does anyone really know? I kept chipping away at the mystery in my mind over years while I was busy with other projects. When I finally realized the tower represented a violent, oppressive force consumed by endless growth and consumption—a reflection of modern capitalism—the story began to quickly snap into place. And, of course, I needed a hero to confront something that powerful, a hero who was its opposite: an ordinary boy whose strength came from empathy, curiosity, courage, and a conviction that we are stronger when we stand together.

A: The Tower features a different kind of hero—one who is thoughtful, curious, and brave without relying on aggression or traditional tropes of masculinity. It’s a story that encourages readers to question authority and think for themselves, wrapped up in a deeply atmospheric, suspenseful setting.

A: Part of my research focused on brutalism—an architectural style involving heavy geometric concrete slabs, which fit perfectly with the oppressive mood of the titular tower. Despite its harsh appearance, brutalism fascinates me, especially in how it contrasts sharply with nature. Additionally, I mapped out Los Angeles to ensure landmarks and geography stayed consistent, and even explored luxurious penthouse features—sadly, I never did find one with a penthouse-spanning waterslide!

A: Like many novelists, I put parts of myself into each character. Kolby reflects my younger self’s feelings of confusion and awkwardness—always feeling like a stranger in rooms full of people who already shared bonds. I made an effort to distinguish the characters visually and culturally, both for reader clarity and to reflect a diverse group of kids. Elías, in particular, was inspired by my childhood best friend, whose kindness and charm left a lasting impression, even after we lost touch.

I try to write fast and stay engaging. Honestly, I’m terrified of being boring. Sometimes my agent even has to remind me to slow down and give certain passages more breathing room. But overall, my goal is always momentum, suspense, and emotional honesty.

A: Ray Bradbury has been a major influence, particularly for the beauty of his prose and his ability to infuse ordinary moments with magical undercurrents. Stephen King deeply shaped my early storytelling instincts, especially his mastery of suspense and character-driven horror. I’m also inspired by Rod Serling and The Twilight Zone, which brilliantly combined fun, twisty science fiction and fantasy with powerful themes like prejudice or the nature of identity.

A: I’m not a fan of heavy revising after a first draft—it’s painful to cut large blocks of text or rearrange substantial portions once they’re written. I prefer extensive prewriting and planning so most of the heavy lifting is done beforehand.

I start by taking my initial idea and formulating a logline, making sure the concept is viable. Do I have a protagonist with a clear flaw and desire? What’s opposing them, and what’s at stake? From there, I build out—first a short pitch, then expanding into a two-page synopsis. I get feedback every step of the way. Eventually, I develop a treatment, typically a 30–40 page document that thoroughly summarizes the plot and includes snippets of dialogue. This lets me to make big-picture changes without tearing apart hundreds of pages later.

Once I’m confident in the structure, I draft quickly,—1,000 words per day. The key for me is to maintain momentum and outrun doubts. After the draft is complete, there’s always some minor revising and polishing, but ideally, the story’s foundation remains solid from the start.

A: I’m currently doing a chronological reread of Stephen King’s entire catalog—right now, I’m up to Firestarter. My goal is to at least get through IT and then tackle the entire Dark Tower series, another epic story that prominently features a tower! It’s been fascinating revisiting King’s progression as a writer and storyteller over the years.

A: The Tower is perfect for middle-grade readers who love thrilling mysteries, creepy atmospheres, and thoughtful characters. It’s also great for readers interested in exploring deeper themes like identity, courage, and standing up against oppressive systems.

A: I hope readers feel empowered to ask questions, challenge assumptions, and recognize that bravery comes in many forms. Most of all, I hope sensitive, thoughtful readers—especially boys who don’t often see heroes like themselves—find reassurance that their own strengths matter.

A: Write the truth, from the deepest part of yourself. Write the story only you can tell—the one that comes directly from your unique voice. But above all, just write, and keep writing. Don’t worry too much if it’s good, or if people will like it, or what your mother thinks. Enjoy the process, keep telling your stories, and continue putting little pieces of yourself out into the world. We need you, and we need your voice—so keep going.