Dead Man’s Pacemaker was never just a story. It is a collection of lived experiences, collective memories, and silent hopes. The people I’ve known, the places I’ve lived, and the things I’ve witnessed all came together to shape this book.
First, there’s my childhood. I spent my early years in Iran during the brutal eight-year war with Iraq. I don’t remember everything from those days, but some moments are burned into my memory. Toward the end of the war, the bombings became more intense — sometimes even announced ahead of time on the radio, which is surreal to think about now.
One day, a bomb hit right across the street from our home. Our windows shattered, and our door locks exploded from the force. My younger brother and grandmother were inside, hiding under the stairs, which is what we were taught to do when the alarms went off. Thankfully, they survived. But the house across from ours wasn’t so lucky—people died that day. That moment, that fear, that fragility of life stayed with me. It had to become part of this story.
Then came the more recent inspiration: the Women, Life, Freedom movement in Iran. I had already outlined the book before the movement erupted, but once it did, I knew I had to weave it into the fabric of the story. The bravery of Iranian women, leading the charge for freedom and risking everything, moved me deeply. In my opinion, they are ahead of us men in their courage and clarity. That fight, their resilience, and their hope reshaped the tone of this novel.
Another powerful influence was my fascination with the Afro-Iranian community. Iran is incredibly diverse, but this particular group is rarely talked about. Their history is complex and painful, rooted in the slavery routes that passed through the Persian Gulf. And yet, their culture has this spiritual, almost mystical beauty that’s often overlooked. I wanted to shine a light on that. In fact, one of the heroes in Dead Man’s Pacemaker is Afro-Iranian, and writing his character was one of the most rewarding parts of this project.
Then there’s my profession. I work in a highly specialized field of medicine—minimally invasive procedures that can save lives without major surgery. I’ve always thought of it as futuristic, like something out of a spy novel. We enter the body through tiny incisions and make life-saving interventions. It’s delicate, precise, and powerful—just like the tech you’d expect from a Mission: Impossible or James Bond film. I wanted to bring that energy into the story. Most people don’t know this side of medicine exists, and I thought, why not make it part of the plot?
And finally, the most personal inspiration of all—my mother. She passed away many years ago, but her influence is in everything I do. She was the quiet strength in our home while my father worked around the clock to provide for us. Her role, like that of so many mothers, was foundational but often invisible. In this story, I wanted to honor that kind of love—the kind that holds families together, often without recognition. She’s in this book too, in ways both subtle and deep.
So yes, this story comes from many places: my past, my passions, and the people who shaped me. Dead Man’s Pacemaker isn’t just a thriller. It’s a reflection of all the stories, voices, and memories that have been waiting for their moment to speak.