STERN LAKE

In the heart of Ohio lies Stern Lake, a quaint small town with a unique charm. More than just a peaceful getaway, Stern Lake is owned and operated by Stargazers United, welcoming visitors from around the world to learn about space exploration and the mysteries it holds.

Unlike typical towns, Stern Lake exists as something between a community and a corporate property. Every street, every building, every blade of grass is maintained by Stargazers United. It's a place designed to inspire wonder about the cosmos while serving as the public face of one of the world's leading space exploration companies.

As we journey deeper into Stern Lake, we'll uncover the secrets hidden within this town, where science and mystery intertwine. From its founding in 2013 to its evolution into a "billboard town" for space exploration, Stern Lake holds stories that go far beyond its carefully manicured appearance.

Before the stars and the clutter of modern-day Stern Lake, Emily's life in this billboard of a town was marked by trials and resilience.

As a child, her parents, who ran the town's only church deceived their followers which led to tragedy and scandal. The weight of their actions fell not just on the congregation, but on Emily herself—a child caught in the aftermath of broken faith and shattered trust.

After the loss of her parents and her grandmother, Emily was left to go through life alone. The person who had raised her with quiet strength and unwavering faith was gone, leaving Emily to navigate the world without the anchor she had always known.

It was only a few years later she met John, a beacon of hope in her turbulent world. Their story began with dreams of a future together—a shared vision of what life could be beyond the pain of the past.

But as John's commitment to Stargazers United grew, Emily faced that fear of solitude again. The mission consumed him, and the distance between them widened, not in miles but in presence. She had learned once before what it meant to be left behind, and now history seemed to be repeating itself in a different form.

Join us as we explore Emily's journey before the mission, a story of love, loss, and strength.

Hello, Stern Lake Community! I wanted to take a moment and talk a bit about my story as a writer.

Over the years, I've started and stopped so many different stories. It's been frustrating honestly, and it got to the point where I had to stay committed. My dream to be an author and that will never happen if I don't FINISH a story.

So that brings us here, Stern Lake—the book I have stayed with since 2021 and I am more motivated than ever to finish this one. I really love this story and I hope you all do too!

There's something different about this one. Maybe it's the characters who refuse to let me abandon them, or maybe it's finally understanding that completion matters more than perfection. Whatever it is, Stern Lake has held my attention in a way nothing else has.

I am so grateful to have you all along for the ride! Thank you for your support as I navigate the ups and downs of this creative journey!

Stern Lake isn't a typical town. While it may look like a community, it's actually more like private property, fully owned and controlled by Stargazers United. It has residents, of course, but many houses remain empty, giving parts of the town a stage-like quality.

The real turning point came when Stargazers United introduced educational programs and tours to gain the trust of the people after some turned away. That's when Stern Lake shifted into more of a showcase—a "billboard town" for space exploration and the central hub of Stargazers United's public image.

It became a place created to be seen, where the focus was on presenting an idealized version of Stargazers United. Visitors could walk through streets that looked lived-in, attend demonstrations in state-of-the-art facilities, and leave with the impression that space exploration was both accessible and aspirational.

But when the focus shifts away from genuine teaching and more toward showcasing a company's image, the essence of community starts to fade. In Stern Lake, that shift is subtle but unmistakable.

What was once meant to be a town became a carefully curated experience. And those who live there—those who remain—exist somewhere between being residents and being part of the display.

Before the mission, John wasn't just an astronaut—he was someone who had overcome doubt from an early age. Growing up, he was told by those closest to him that he'd never achieved his dream of becoming an astronaut. But John never let go of that dream.

To Emily, John was the embodiment of perseverance. He believed that discovering life beyond Earth could bring hope to humanity—a truth he held onto, even when others doubted him. When he joined Stargazers United, it felt like a natural step for him, a chance to prove that his lifelong belief in the value of exploration was well-founded.

But as John's commitment to the mission grew, Emily began to see the quiet distance that formed between them. She knew his belief was strong and that to her, proved his selflessness and she loved that, but it wasn't all for the good of the world.

She knew his passion was also him proving himself to those who doubted him. This extreme belief is what she began to hate. The mission wasn't just about discovery anymore—it was about validation. And the more John chased that validation, the further he moved from the person she had fallen in love with.

This is John through Emily's eyes—a man of unwavering conviction, standing firm in his truth, even when the world around him began to waver.

Hello, Stern Lake Community! This week, I want to take you behind the scenes of my writing journey and share some of the most valuable lessons I've learned along the way.

When I started writing Stern Lake, I knew I had a story that I liked, but I didn't realize just how much work it needed. I realized how a good story needs a good foundational structure. I began to study story structure and one of the biggest lessons has been understanding the three-act structure—how the beginning, middle, and end of a story each play a crucial role in building tension and guiding the reader through the journey.

I've also spent a lot of time diving into character arcs and backgrounds. Creating characters like John and Emily has taught me how a character's past can shape their actions and how their internal beliefs can drive them even when they didn't realize it.

It's been an eye-opening process, and I've loved seeing how these elements come together to create a richer, more compelling narrative.

I'm excited to keep learning and growing as a writer, and I'm so grateful to have all of you along for this journey. Thanks for being part of the world of Stern Lake!

On the east side of town, a freshly washed concrete slab, marks where the town's church once stood—a building lost when grief turned to anger. The congregation, once a community built of trust, became victims in the aftermath—crushed between tragedy and scandal.

When two teenage kid's deaths led to the church destruction, a scar was left on both the land and the people. The building came down not through official decree, but through the raw emotion of those who felt betrayed. What remained was just concrete—blank, clean, waiting.

Now the slab stands as a canvas for many who felt abandoned to keep the memory alive as a silent but loud reminder. Messages appear and disappear. Names are written, then washed away. Flowers are left and wilted.

In Stern Lake, even what's lost still shapes what remains. The absence of the church is as present as any standing building. It's a gap in the town's carefully curated image, a reminder that not everything here can be controlled or rewritten.

But what else does this foundation reveal about the past? Stay tuned as we uncover more of Stern Lake's hidden layers.

Before Stern Lake became a place of spectacle and silence, there was Mary. To Emily, her Grandma wasn't just the person who raised her after everything came apart. She was steadiness, Discipline. Faith lived quietly, not loudly.

Mary was a woman shaped by belief long before belief became complicated in Stern Lake. She taught scripture, guided others, and carried her faith with a firmness that didn't waver—even when life was rough. She had survived loss early, raised a family alone. She built a church from the ground up because she believed a town needed more than just houses to be whole.

When scandal shattered that church under different leadership and Emily's family with it, Mary became Emily's anchor. She wasn't offered easy answers or false comforts. She taught Emily how to endure by leaning in on her faith.

Even after Mary was gone, those lessons stayed in Emily's heart.

Emily's faith—quiet personal, unshaken—comes from her Grandma. Not from institutions. Not from appearances. From someone who lived what she believed, even when belief came at a cost.

In Stern Lake, faith didn't disappear.
It just became something Emily learned to carry alone.

Hi Stern Lake Community, This week I wanted to talk about my own reflections on what it would mean for me to pursue writing as a career.

I've always found myself going into deep elaborate daydreams about my future about the different avenues I have wanted to take my whole life. There is a thrill in coming up with scenarios of a better more fulfilling life.

With this particular dream however there is fear. Since I have decided to really commit myself to this path it feels real and with that comes the fear of the unknown aspects. What will it look like to find a publisher, and how my life might transform if I succeed.

The fear of testing myself, to go into parts of this journey that make me vulnerable can be overwhelming, but it's also what makes this whole thing meaningful. I am still trying to learn how to embrace the uncertainty, seeing it as a part of the adventure rather than a barrier.

Through it all, I'm reminded that every step forward, every moment of perseverance, is a victory. It's your support that keeps me going, and I'm deeply grateful for it.

Stern Lake isn't empty, but it isn't full either. The houses have trimmed lawns and tinted windows, and many driveways sit unused. The town looks maintained, even when it feels quiet.

When Stern Lake first opened in 2013, people arrived quickly. Within a year, there were few places left to live. Many residents worked for the same company that owned their homes, and the town moved at a steady, communal pace. That rhythm didn't last.

Now, the spaces meant for neighbors have been replaced with spaces meant for visitors. Toy stores, learning centers, and a school designed more for demonstration than community line the streets. They keep the town active, even when fewer people stay.

Stern Lake didn't empty out. It reorganized. What was once built for residents now exists for an audience.

The people who remain aren't quite residents and aren't quite employees—they exist somewhere in between, maintaining a town that was never fully theirs to begin with.

Before Stern Lake, Amanda's world was smaller and clearer. Her father was the center of it.

He was the person she trusted without hesitation. The one she measured herself against. For a long time, he represented stability — the idea that someone could be dependable, present, and worth believing in.

When that trust broke, it didn't shatter loudly. It rewrote things quietly.

Amanda learned that closeness could turn on you. That the people you love most are capable of doing the most damage without meaning to. She didn't lose her father all at once — she lost the version of him she thought was permanent.

After that, Amanda became careful. She held onto anger because it felt safer than forgiveness. She learned how to leave first, how to stay guarded, how to keep control over who got close and who didn't.

Then Nathan happened.

He wasn't part of the plan she built for herself. He didn't fit the rules she'd learned to live by. Somehow, he stayed. Somehow, she let him. Not because she stopped being afraid — but because, for once, the fear didn't win.

What she carried forward wasn't hatred — it was vigilance.

Amanda didn't stop wanting connection. She just stopped trusting that it could last.

This is Amanda before Stern Lake.
Not broken — just braced.

I have always loved creating stories, ever since I was a kid writing on a donated Windows 3.1 computer.

I don't remember most of the stories themselves. I lost them years ago. I just remember writing about friends going on adventures, and how natural it felt to sit there and make something up.

When I got older, I shifted into screenplays. I noticed I started writing about my own life, just dressed up differently. Most of the time, it felt more like a journal entry than anything else.

I didn't stop telling stories when I became an adult. I just never completed them.

Stern Lake is the first time I noticed a difference.

Something about this story refused to let me walk away. The characters felt real in a way that made abandoning them feel like betrayal. The town itself demanded to be fully explored, not just sketched.

And maybe that's what completion requires—not just discipline or routine, but a story that holds onto you as tightly as you hold onto it.