My name is John Draper. I achieved sainthood at 19—when I was at my sexual peak. The horniest I’d ever be. You can imagine how well that worked. I went on in this vein for 35 years, until I realized there is no God—at least not the one most people talk about when they talk about God. The guy who has our best interests at heart and answers prayer. Heals people. Finds car keys. That guy.
My loss of faith was triggered by writing my first novel, A Danger to God Himself. It’s a story about a Mormon missionary who goes insane on his mission. I realized I was just like the ridiculous Mormon missionaries I was letting into my house to berate while I was researching the novel.
Now I’m writing a memoir about my 10 years with OCD—which just happened to coincide with the first 10 years of my Christianity. You can imagine how well that worked.
This blog is where I talk about what I’m learning as I navigate life without God. The truth, of course, is that I was always navigating life without God. I mistook my conscience for God. Easy mistake.