Beka Wueste’s website displays her vibrantly colored paintings and drawings in a variety of genres: acrylic, colored pencil, oil pastel, chalk pastel, and gouache. Her art, she says with a laugh, is reflective of a childhood spent “in a household of book nerds,” exposed to the widest variety of writing, from poet Robert Frost to novelist Agatha Christie, from Edgar Allan Poe’s The Cask of Amontillado to E.L. Konigsburg’s From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.

Wueste was born in Texas but grew up in Northern Virginia. She and her four siblings were raised by their mother, a former ballerina with the now-defunct North Dallas Ballet and later a graphic designer, professional cake maker, and cross-stitcher. “Everything was an opportunity for creation,” Wueste says.

“Art is for sharing,” her mother used to say, and Wueste is now sharing her latest creation, her debut novel, The Unsent Letters of Lucy Prior. The book’s eponymous missives etch what Kirkus Reviews calls “a deeply introspective and emotionally resonant” portrait of the recently deceased letter writer. Lucy directs her death administrator:

Maybe I’m a coward for waiting to send all of these until after I die. Maybe I should have sent these years ago, maybe I still shouldn’t be sending these at all, not to people so ancient in my history. You will note a lack of letters to [my husband] Timothy, as well as pretty much anyone else in my adult life from the time since we were married.That’s because…by that time, I was in a healthier place of telling people what I thought, of being honest and communicative. There was nothing left unsaid. No, it’s only the people in my distant past that haunt me over what I should have told them.

To her abusive and controlling father, long-lost friends, a failed mentor, and others, Lucy expresses universal feelings of anger, appreciation, resentment, regret, love, and thankfulness that make her a highly relatable character.

The letter that Lucy wrote to her father was initially the basis for a short story, but from this single correspondence, Wueste reflected on positive personal interventions that could help someone survive a toxic or abusive relationship. “Art should be emotional, but it should leave people feeling better after they’ve encountered it,” she says. “I wanted to balance the letter to her father with a thank-you letter or a letter of apology. I thought about who Lucy might write thank-you letters to. What were the pivotal moments in her life; what other interactions could shape her life for better or for worse? This spurred letter after letter, and I said to myself, This is no longer a short story; this is a novel in which the letters have become a full reflection of her lifetime.”

Wueste has always been fascinated by epistolary and “found document” novels such as Dracula, Dangerous Liaisons, and Flowers for Algernon. “People are more honest when they’re writing [personal correspondence],” she says.

Wueste had been writing stories since high school, but contrary to her mother’s maxim, she never shared them. Unlike her artwork, which she has exhibited in local shows from the time she was in grade school (in June 2025, more than 20 of her works were featured at the Fredericksburg Center for Creative Arts), she was never as confident in her writing. “I held my written work much more closely,” she says. “But several years ago, I said to my husband that I wanted to make a go of sharing my writing.”

Wueste works full time as a marketing executive for a government contracting firm. “There’s never a perfect time to write a book, so I was determined to commit to making space in my life, along with my art, to do so.” She wrote first thing in the morning on weekdays and blocked off up to 10 hours on weekends. She also took to heart the words of author Anne Lamott, who, in Bird by Bird, her 1994 book about writing, reassures writers that “almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts…Start by getting something—anything—down on paper.”

Wueste’s mother was a profound influence on her daughter. Like Lucy, her mother went through “traumatic things,” the author shares. “And yet in the end, she wasn’t bitter. We remember her as a loving, fun person.” She passed away in 2024, when the book was “pretty much done,” Wueste says. “I complained to her that I had submitted the book [to agents and publishers] but was not getting anywhere. She said, ‘You don’t have to wait; just put it out there. Art is meant to be shared.’”

The book’s underlying theme of closure was shaped by Wueste’s own experience with her mother after her mom received a cancer diagnosis. “She was gone in six weeks,” she says. “I was able to be with her every day when she began home hospice. I would crawl into bed and read to her. It was eye-opening to me what she considered to be important to talk about; she focused on the people who were important to her in a positive way.”

Perhaps most importantly, Wueste credits her mother with prioritizing reading, music, and the arts. It was “no holds barred on how many books we could get from the library,” she says. “When my older brother was in kindergarten, she volunteered to read to the class, and she brought me along so I could read” as well.

Her older siblings also read to her. The Chronicles of Narnia, her gateway to literary fantasy, made a big impression, as did Island of the Blue Dolphins, The Hobbit, and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. “Even as adults, we all trade books constantly to share what we’re excited about,” she says.

One of the most rewarding things about writing The Unsent Letters of Lucy Prior has been how the book has resonated emotionally with readers, Wueste says. At readings, several people have told her that the book had inspired them to contact people who’d once been important in their lives. One book club suggested that its members write a letter to a pivotal person and share it with the group, who would then vote on whether or not the letter should be sent.

Wueste shares that she herself recently received a Facebook friend request from a former high school classmate who had bullied her. “I’m not big on confrontation,” she says, “but I was compelled to remind her that we were not on friendly terms back then and that I wasn’t comfortable being ‘friends,’ but I wished her well.”

Wueste has followed up Lucy Prior with three more books: Fireflies in a Jar and a short story collection, My Side of the World and Other Tales of Death; a third novel, Human of the Year, is scheduled for publication this spring.

Wueste now lives in Centreville, Virginia, with her husband of 14 years, also a government employee. To those with aspirations of writing a book, she encourages, “Life is short and tomorrow is never guaranteed, so get started now! If you’re like me and you work full time and have other obligations, it can be challenging, but it is possible, and it is worth it! Even if you can only write for ten minutes a day, that will add up over time. If you lose confidence or energy along the way, remind yourself how good it will feel to hold your own book in your hands.”

Donald Liebenson is a Chicago-based writer who is published on vanityfair.com and in the Washington Post and other outlets.