Oh, the horror of it all!
October 13, 2025 • No Comments
I’m writing this in October, a few weeks before the heart of spooky season. Already the mercantile machine is pushing Halloween treats from candy corn to Children of the Corn. I wanted to write Children of the Candy Corn, but someone else got there first.
In any event, it has me pondering the function of horror in art. Yes, I know finer minds than mine have written entire books on this, but I’m thinking from a personal perspective. There are entire subgenres that don’t ping on my personal radar. Chopping people to bits while they’re still alive doesn’t push my entertainment buttons. Nor does ambulatory decomposition. I used to love a good plague story until I lived through one. In other words, I’m picky as a consumer and a creator. I want my horror just so, and I want it to pull its creative weight whenever it’s pressed into service.
This is why, in my opinion, so much horror falls flat. The threat (demon, evil house, weird neighbors, giant bug, fungus as a dramatic character, and on and on) is relatively interchangeable. Whether or not it is verbal and/or has a backstory (the bug was unloved as a grub), it wants to kill/dominate and not much else. It scares us a little or a lot, but in the end we just want it to stop munching the cast. We don’t care about its feelings.
What I want in a good monster is the killing machine, but with an artistic and emotional purpose.
Take vampires, that old horror standby. They are not, generally speaking, vegans. They are apex predators, and we are lunch. This is fine. Like Chekov’s gun, one should not introduce a loaded vampire to the proceedings unless one intends to use it. But it needs to do more than be broody and lethal.
Enter Dracula. For the era in which he was birthed upon the page, he is a sophisticated monster. He definitely bites, has a well-defined plan, and is a master manipulator. He represents a halfway point between stock villain and real personality. We get glimpses of his history, but admittedly the reader receives a limited account of his feelings and motivations as compared to the other characters. Our response to Dracula is largely filtered through their experience. How they respond to him and uphold their own self-identities is what really makes him an interesting villain.
But what about paranormal romance vampires, such as in the Dark Forgotten series? Modern readers need a well-rounded character for a romance to engage, so authors have work to do. When I create a vampire protagonist, I try to make that individual sympathetic without diminishing their dangerous instincts. They have their own goals, wants, and desires, but they are still wolves, not golden retrievers. A “safe” vampire, in my opinion, negates the thing that makes them compelling.
And what is that secret sauce? As with Dracula, the struggle between human and non-human impulses is what makes the vampiness of the vampire fascinating. More often than not in paranormal romance, that struggle is taking place within the vampire character. How can they reconcile their instincts and their heart? It’s what makes them mad, bad, and dangerous to know—and oh, such fascinating forbidden fruit.
The same can be applied to any kind of monster. For werewolves, please see The Company of Wolves, a brutally beautiful 1984 film based on a work by Angela Carter. It takes the schoolroom right out of Red Riding Hood and has a lot to say about our animal nature.
The struggle to remain what we believe ourselves to be is the primary occupation of the kind of horror I prefer—what makes us human, or not, and how that sometimes means crossing lines we didn’t even know were there. Good art challenges our assumptions and makes us think. Tearing away our carefully-constructed self-image is uncomfortable, and good horror does that gently, insidiously, or with a force of eleven out of ten.
It’s a good kind of awful.
Detours on the Road to Camelot
September 16, 2025 • No Comments
If you want to see what society is worried about, look at the bestseller list. A scan of best-selling fiction reveals our current anxieties and fantasies. Who are our heroes? Are we looking for white hats? Or are we in one of those phases where a tattered gray hat holds the most fascination?
Stories have always been like that—we concoct the legends we need in the moment. When I wrote the Camelot Reborn series, I kept that in mind as I scanned the source material I referenced. Arthurian legend has many attractions, but consistency is largely absent.
One FAQ is whether King Arthur and Camelot really existed. What we know is sketchy at best. There’s some thought that Arthur might have been a fifth-century Welsh warlord who may or may not have led a miliary expedition in France, but take that with an ocean’s worth of salt. It’s enough that Arthur is the folkloric equivalent of a Swiss army knife with a persona for every occasion.
Scholars refer to the vast body of Arthurian legend as “The Matter of Britain.” The earliest mentions are in Celtic literature, but the first fulsome text is the Historia Regum Britanniae (aka History of the Kings of England) by Geoffrey of Monmouth. This fanciful account appeared around 1136 AD and established the framework of Arthur’s story as we know it. Here we find Merlin, Guinevere, Sir Kay the seneschal, and Excalibur (though Geoffrey calls it Caliburn). Geoffrey’s work is all about Britain’s heroic antecedents and Arthur’s job here is to be royal and mighty. Interestingly, Lancelot is missing.
For good old Lance, we turn to the Frenchman Chretien de Troyes, who wrote a twelfth-century cycle of stories about Arthur and co. At the time, courtly love was trending. This involved an Unattainable Lady ™ who is infinitely desirable but unapproachable (probably because she’s married to someone else) and therefore the Suitor Who Burns With Passion™ is doomed to deliciously painful yearning. Kind of like a love triangle that got run over by a spiteful unicorn. There is poetry. Thank heavens there were no movie channels.
Anyway, this is where Lancelot’s doomed love for Guinevere enters the picture. Not all the early Lancelot stories feature this romance, suggesting he predates de Troyes as a figure in medieval legends. That said, there are other constants among the various works about him: Lancelot was raised by a supernatural female (the Lady of the Lake, who appears as Niniane or Nimueh or even a mermaid), and he rescues assorted ladies in distress. No doubt there’s a knightly quota of damsel-rescuing required. It’s worth noting that in this Gallic version of the story, Arthur (English king) is a third wheel and Lancelot (hot French knight) is the man of the hour.
As time goes on and the bloom of courtly love fades, Lancelot becomes a troubled character. The darker parts of his legend—the betrayal of Arthur, the destruction of Camelot, guilt and madness—are later additions. Much of this material comes into English literature via Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. When we get to later authors like Tennyson, it’s clear what was once seen as romantic if unrequited love has become morally compromised. Only the purest of the pure, Galahad, succeeds in the Grail Quest whereas reprobates like Lancelot fall by the wayside. For the record, I always found Galahad vaguely irritating.
When I came to write Enchanted Guardian, I kept with the less angsty versions of Lancelot—the rescuer, the true friend, and the man who owed allegiance to the Lady of the Lake. Not that he doesn’t have problems—it wouldn’t be a compelling story otherwise. For one thing, there’s not much call for knights in the twenty-first century. At least, not until the dragon shows up.
Figgy adventures
August 29, 2025 • No Comments
With all the back to school vibes around, I began to wonder what the experience was like for kids in the time of the Hellion House books, or at least the Victorian era. There were differences in curriculum, but the experience of leaving summer freedom behind for the drudgery of the classroom would be consistent. No doubt back to school was woe and excitement in equal measure then as now.
Not surprisingly, the details of the experience depended a lot on who you were. There were boarding schools and day schools, and arrangements around meals provided by the school varied, especially between the economic brackets of the attendees. I did a little investigation into the kind of desserts/puddings kids would get (any excuse to research old recipes). There were intriguing names, such as “spotted dick” and “roly-poly.” They tended to be starchy and filling, with preserves or dried fruit as the primary interest. This makes sense, because a) children are bottomless pits b) the dishes could be cheaply produced in bulk and c) preserved fruit made sense in an era without reliable refrigeration and a still-evolving network of rapid long-distance travel.
Currants and raisins were the most common fruit in the recipes I found. Another staple was dried figs, which tended to appear on more upper-class menus. This interested me as I had a bag of dried figs and no idea what to do with them. In the spirit of deep research (and fridge cleaning) I looked around for period options and their modern equivalents to concoct an enjoyable, historically-adjacent treat. I ignored the figgy pudding of Christmas carol fame because where, o where, is my pudding basin? and also it’s still too warm for any dish I need to douse in alcohol and set on fire.
Happily there were plenty of non-flammable options. The first effort out of the oven was an apple and fig tart. It had some interesting features, including a layer of ground almonds at the bottom of the pie to soak up a yummy maple syrup sauce. Though promising, it wasn’t quite a five-star result. I like my pie fillings ooey-gooey and this was too dry and under-stuffed. Different apples and changing up the proportions would be necessary to make a properly sinful filling. I will give this one another go.
The second option I’m happy to share because it is a nicely-textured loaf that tastes like autumn. It rose well, has a moist crumb, and properly balances the sweet and spicy elements. This recipe soaks the dried figs in black tea to soften them, which imparts a faintly smoky taste that pairs beautifully with the other seasonings. I highly recommend grating the nutmeg fresh for maximum pop. I could see the students at the University of Londria wrapping a slice in a napkin to eat while they bolted to their next class.
Here’s the recipe for that one. Pro tip: be sure to cut the woody stems out of the figs
Preheat oven to 350F
Sift:
1.5 cups of flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg (grated fresh)
Cream:
1/2 cup butter
2/3 cup brown sugar
Add: 3 eggs and 1 tsp vanilla
Then add the dry ingredients a bit at a time, along with:
1.5 cups of dried figs, chopped and soaked in very hot black tea for a half hour (then drain before adding to recipe)
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
Pour into a greased loaf tin and bake for 50 minutes
Cool on a wire rack before slicing.
Enjoy!
Mermaids in the rain
August 10, 2025 • 1 Comment
The mermaids have left. Maybe the rain will bring them back, or maybe we need better snacks. Then again, 
I’m cautious about what they consider good eating.
It’s time I thought more about creatures of the deep, or even denizens of the shallows. The rain pounded on the skylight this morning in an all-too-brief reprieve from the drought. In years past, I’ve considered the Pacific Northwest summers too wet and dreary, but these days I take the sun for granted. It’s the drooping garden that reminds me the elements need balance, and that water needs our full attention.
It’s the element that embodies birth, dreams, and emotion. Creativity. Mystery. Drama. I don’t write about it as much as I could, although it has made a splash here and there (pun intended).
Nimueh, the Lady of the Lake in Enchanted Guardian is a water fae and a perfect symbol of the element. She has lost her capacity for emotion and to heal, she returns to her lake and is reborn anew—amid big feelings, high-stakes romance, jealousy, redemption, and drama. There is nothing small or quiet about water elementals.
After all, what is adventure without the high seas? In the Corsair’s Cove series, pirate Daniel Blackthorne faces a ticking clock—either he plays cupid or dies a final death. And in Shatter, there is Captain Maxwell Stokes of the ghost ship Solitude, locked in an inexorable struggle with the Sea King. This is another tale of rebirth and transformation in the most fundamental sense. And sea monsters. And hot dudes with tridents. And fish and chips.
But the Dark Forgotten series—in all its citified glory—is bereft of watery creatures. They can’t skulk about on street corners like a vampire or even a wolf. The backyard swimming pool is too small for a kraken, and selkies require at least a beach, preferably with unsuspecting sailors to torment.
Yet, the urban landscape should be big enough for all the elements, including the cauldron of creativity, rebirth, and dreams. Maybe it just takes a little more work, a little digging to hit the wellspring of the unconscious that feeds all that feeling. Maybe we just need to listen more closely to hear the mermaids singing over the downtown traffic.
Perhaps I can hear them after all, in the sound of the rain.
Price of Admission
July 14, 2025 • No Comments
(From the story universe of Hellion House)
To prospective students at the University of Londria:
Thank you so much for expressing interest in attending our institution. We are more than delighted to escort you on a guided tour of the campus on Tuesday next.
Please note: since the fall of the Citadel and withdrawal of protection by the Conclave, there are changes in campus policy and practice. The tour will begin at three o’clock sharp. Please be punctual so that the tour, which is expected to take two hours, may commence and therefore conclude well before sunset. Those more than ten minutes late will be dropped from the guest list.
All college gates are closed and locked at dusk for security. Visitors are advised to clear the grounds before that time. Furthermore, visitors are encouraged to plan for emergencies, specifically defense against the Unseen. The University of Londria is not responsible for incidents of a predatory nature, so please arm accordingly.
This tour will be conducted on foot. Ladies are encouraged to dress in footwear suitable for running.
Yours most sincerely,
Bertram Miles, Esq.
Assistant Dean of Admissions
The Univeristy
The existence of Londria’s university arose organically out of the earliest books. As soon as Olivia Fletcher existed, so did her academic aspirations and therefore an institution where she could realize them.
This is a departure from the typical Victorian milieu, where the female of the species exists to cast a warm, fuzzy glow at the heart of the home and occasionally die of consumption (artistically, of course). Londria is under siege by monsters, and therefore women share in the work of survival, regardless of class.
That said, there is still pressure, in the uppermost income bracket, to devote oneself to the role of society wife. This may include promoting familial advancement through marriage, arranging salons, and designing witty canapes, which does constitute a full-time occupation even without the demands of social media. Nevertheless, everyone starts out with an education aimed toward a paid occupation. An individual with sufficient means and intelligence would attend university. For those without means but with outstanding brains, scholarships are available.
As humans rely on technology (and magic) to keep the Unseen from devouring all and sundry, the study of science and engineering receives the most attention. After all, someone has to design all those clever ray guns. Yes, there are faculties of literature and fine art, although they enjoy less emphasis. Humanity differentiates itself by the stories it tells itself and the beauty it creates, but not getting eaten is still top of the to-do list.
Campus
The university’s original buildings are old, built before the Great Disaster that occurred in late Tudor times. Clever observers recorded that was the moment everything went dreadfully awry, mostly due to dragons and other hungry monsters, and building programs were diverted to making a great big wall. Civic buildings took a back seat. Ergo, the core of the campus is medieval, much like Oxford or Cambridge, but smaller.
As Londria is a walled city, real estate is at a premium and the university aims to support itself with kitchen and rooftop gardens wherever they can be accommodated. There are limited open lawns and playing fields, and what exists is multi-purpose and carefully scheduled to maximize access. However, the span of the river safely within the city walls is popular for boating, and there is a very popular rowing club dedicated to mayhem and occasional water sports.
Buildings adjacent to the university were absorbed as the student population expanded, but with resources at a premium very little was torn down and rebuilt. One exception is purpose-built residences on site for students. In addition, faculty might reside in town or have rooms on campus. Olivia’s professors reside in Starling Hall, with their personal quarters attached to the study where they tutor students.
There is, of course, a main library as well as faculty-specific collections. However, given the cost of producing and shipping books in general, the libraries do not lend out their treasures freely. Most required reading happens on-site.
Student Life
University is (in general) the time for many young people to find mentors, lovers, and their first defining pratfalls and victories. For Olivia, the highly competitive Faculty of Mathematics offers her the environment she likes best – structured, rational, and with clear markers of achievement and hierarchy. She knows where she fits in. For the first time, she has a serious suitor and a set of friends that is uniquely her own. She exists beyond her siblings and her home.
Sadly, in Queen’s Tide, that precious structure is shattered and her inner resources are tested because, well, the plot requires blood. Authors are horrible. Readers are ravening beasts demanding trial and tribulation in the name of entertainment.
There will be a fictional characters’ union meeting shortly after the university tour, assuming anyone survives.
Megastore of the Monsters
June 24, 2025 • No Comments
Buffy the Vampire Slayer alleged that the Hellmouth was beneath the school gym. This makes sense if you’re Buffy’s age, but that Hellmouth is for beginners. The real, adult version lurks somewhere in the junk food section of the local big box store.
Necromancy was in the air this weekend as I strolled from the parking lot to the land of discount everything. Or maybe I was catching the scent of French fries and unfocussed rage as 10,000 overtired adults crammed shopping carts into a single lane aisle. Being an author, it made me daydream of monsters. Not just zombies (that metaphor for consumerism has been done and done again), but the rest of the fright night crew.
What would one find at a discount warehouse for paranormal creatures? For mummies, perhaps a crate load of moisturizer and bougie laundry detergent made for Egyptian cotton. For vampires, bulk eyeliner and flats of juice boxes of blood with wee bendy straws (kept far from the garlic display). In the book department, why not have towers of that latest bestseller beach read, The Golden Crypts of Summer? Each volume comes with a bonus gift of complimentary sunscreen, SPF 1000.
Werewolves came to mind a lot, especially when I encountered piles of huge, fluffy dog beds. Heck, I wanted to curl up in them as a quivering heap and dissociate from the chaos. But offerings for our trusty shifters wouldn’t end there. Perhaps there would also be flea collars disguised as neckties, or spiky goth collars with tracking devices for those moonlit nights when events get out of hand.
Not to mention all the tasty treats at the fast-food concession. Entrails with mustard! Bun optional! I mean, that’s kinda what hot dogs are, anyway, right?
Come Halloween, the little ones would have endless choice of pre-packaged, horrifying costumes. Parents would have to deal with whines of “Puleeez can I go as a tax accountant, Daddy?” as they paw at the bagged pinstriped jacket and comb-over wig hanging on the peg board. But what if mom says no? Does the overwhelmed little pup melt down for a howl in the manner of all toddlers of every species?
But that pup is pack. I imagine all the adults in the store howling back to comfort that tiny, bruised heart. I like to think this monsterized version of the big box is a less scary place than the human one I left with my shopping cart of hard-fought plunder.
Useless (or not) to a Degree
June 10, 2025 • No Comments
Debate abounds around careers and jobs and the correct educational path to achieve success. This isn’t new, nor is philosophizing about what success actually looks like. I’m a writer. In my case, success is gathering enough minutes into uninterrupted hours to actually get some work done, and there’s no certificate that can make that happen.
On that note, I am occasionally asked what degree one should take to be a writer. Honestly, that depends a lot on one’s tastes and the options available. A degree is a fabulous achievement and a worthy end in itself, but is not to be confused with a career destination. Put another way, what it says on the box isn’t always what it will mean for your ambitions. This is especially relevant when it comes to the ambiguous domain of the arts.For instance, when I attended university, the Creative Writing department was having a good existential wallow. Anything with a linear plot and clear resolution was shaken from the soles of their Birkenstocks with scorn. They published a well-regarded literary magazine that left me bored and confused. For me, who wanted to write classic adventure stories, it wasn’t a good fit.
I took myself to the English Literature department and signed on for four years spent reading books, which is what I did everyday anyway. It was bliss. Plus, it taught me things I wanted to know. We studied plot structure, literary technique, the use of language for effect, and how great works both reflected and changed societal attitudes. We studied comedy and drama and how plots with a bit of each weaved together to keep the audience’s appetite engaged. And, we studied characterization, from Homer to Shakespeare to Dickens and Austen. The material ran the gamut from antiquity to living authors to romantic poets and Victorian gothic fiction. Nothing was off the table, and it was up to me to decide where to focus. What a banquet!
Not every new author would be as besotted as I was, but I loved learning how to break down a work of literature and analyze what made it tick. More than that, I loved the autonomy to like what I liked without apology. I spent my time between semesters workshopping a series of totally unpublishable novels using what I’d studied. Those books will never see daylight, but they formed me as an author. When I graduated, I still had lots to learn about specific genres, but I came away with a voice and a respectable toolkit of techniques.
Today, universities have more options. There are degree programs in popular fiction. There are also tons of on-line workshops and conferences, which is infinitely more doable for most than signing on for four years steeped in literary criticism. I recognize that I was extremely lucky to have scholarships, indulgent parents, and the kind of time that only exists when you’re nineteen.
What I realize in retrospect is that I was operating on a very old method of teaching, which was copywork. Art students used to learn their brushwork by reproducing the masters. I was learning by studying and replicating as well. This method doesn’t need a degree, just good observational skills and a wide appetite. I personally recommend learning a bit of literary analysis, but I’m biased.
The point is, think about what you read and don’t stick to the familiar. Look at poetry, drama, and essays as well as fiction. The real value of my degree was examining a huge variety of material. However you choose to study—formally, casually, with a specialization or ad hoc—it’s about stockpiling your brain with ideas and the skills to make them work. Future you on book 40 will be thankful, because you won’t be repeating yourself.
A certificate in a frame is nice, but its real value is whether or not it contributes to your artistic survival skills. That’s up to you. Keep bringing new content to the table. Don’t get stuck in a genre echo chamber. Keep readers engaged by offering them something fresh. In the end, serving your audience is what matters.
A Witch’s Garden
May 24, 2025 • No Comments
This is one of those topics that comes with caveats because, I am sure, a witch’s garden is whatever the witch wants it to be. Gardens are reflective of their caretaker’s personalities and therefore as unique as each individual and purpose. And, as with a witch’s cat, a witch’s garden (any garden, really) will have its own agenda.
The Basics
That said, there will be guiding principles. In traditional folklore, witches lived in an agrarian setting, either as part of a community or adjacent to it. It stands to reason that, whatever else the witch was up to, they most likely planted a kitchen garden: herbs, vegetables and, if they were fortunate, a few fruit trees. There were likely some pretty flowers to attract pollinators and ensure a fruitful harvest.
Does that sound disappointingly mundane? It shouldn’t. Just because plants are well-known to us, don’t assume they are without enchantment. Apples have long association with myth and magic—from Snow White to Avalon, they are the go-to item in the fairy tale produce aisle. Helen of Troy might have been the face that launched a thousand ships, but it was the prize of a golden apple that started it all.
Sadly, I’m short of heroic legends featuring kale.
Medicinal Gardens
It’s fairly well-established that historically witches tended to be older single women with opinions and, more notably, land and fortunes the male elders felt would be better off in other hands. Say, their hands. As part of the property transfer process, these troublesome females were accused of concocting poisons, curses, and spells. Noxious herbs were prominently featured.
A knowledge of healing herbs was part of any housewife’s toolkit. They would be grown or gathered in season and preserved for future uses. What those herbs were varied depending on local practice, but a few are easily identified. Eyebright, for instance, is easy to use for making an eyewash effective for seasonal allergies. Heart’s ease, also known as wild pansy, has been used since the Middle Ages for cardiovascular and autoimmune issues. These plants were used so widely they were named for their healing properties.
Danger Gardens
What can cure, can kill. Plants are at the front of this line. An easy example is digitalis, or foxglove. While it’s the basis of an effective medication, it features in dozens of mystery novels as the heart-attack-inducing herbal slipped into a victim’s tea. Similarly, the right kind of eucalyptus infused in honey is a great cough syrup. The wrong kind is only good for koala bears. Even common culinary herbs, like thyme, can have adverse health effects in the wrong doses.
This is the territory of the Hollywood witch’s garden. Or, in more of a real-life setting, the Alnwick Poison Garden. On the surface, it might look fairly ordinary—mandrake is highly poisonous, but is just another bushy green thing to the untrained eye. Whether a curse or a cure, who needs magic when botany can do the heavy lifting?
To understand how to prepare and deploy the garden residents is the practitioner’s true power. A well-tended plant is very willing to show just how capable it can be. It’s only sensible to be cautious and very, very polite to whatever witches, fairies, or other garden keepers are about.
Magic Gardens
While gardens can feed, cure, or kill us, is there room for a magical element that would set a witch’s garden apart? Yes, I’m sure there is. I’ve been to gardens that felt special in a way that’s impossible to describe. I was taught as a child to leave a corner of the garden wild for the nature spirits, so maybe that makes the difference. The best words I have for those gardens with a little extra is harmony. They’re functioning as an energetic whole instead of a collection of manicured parts.
The witches in my books don’t always have gardens like the Carvers in the Dark Forgotten series do—some do live in apartments—but they do have an understanding of the energies that guide the botanical world. Healing is about restoring nature’s design. Evil is disrupting it. Vampires are in some ways outside nature—they have stepped beyond the norm into a kind of suspended state.
What kind of gardens would vampires have? I found this post from the National Garden Bureau on goth gardens. I’m enchanted by the blenderized concoction of yogurt and moss that can be painted onto objects to encourage insta-mossy hardscaping.
Moody, Broody, and Tropey
May 12, 2025 • No Comments
The title does not refer to yet another remake of Snow White. I’m pondering the genre referred to as Dark Academia. I’ll say off the bat that I’ve found more references to clothing and décor than literature, and that some of it looks a bit like All Creatures Great and Small had a love child with The Munsters. All the same, I get (and adore) the overall preponderance of antiques, leather-bound books, mugs of tea, autumn rain, and resplendent classic fashion. Add a little string quartet music in the background and one is ready to think deep thoughts and get all moody and Byronic.
But, material trappings aside, what tropes define the literature? This isn’t the “high school for vampires” academy stories. This skews older and generally unhappier. Romance may or may not be the central theme. My favorite entry in the genre has so far been Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House series, which has paranormal elements, but many Dark Academia books do not.
So what’s common to most of the genre? To start with the obvious, a school. Preferably an old one with appropriate brick-and-ivy trappings. It should have a Classics department or an arts focus, definitely a lot of quotable literature about the place. Astronomy would be acceptable, but modern technology—y’know collider thingies or genetic whatsits—would require special handling. Mad botanists is one thing, but leather elbow patches just look odd on lab coats.
The characters are important. There’s usually a mentor figure—the resident Dumbledore—and close-knit friends. The protagonist is often an outsider, whether a newcomer to an elite group, or a super-brilliant person in an elite group, or an elite person with deep dark secrets in an elite group or—did I mention that there is an element of elitism here? Probably because those are the only social strata who can afford tuition at one of those old schools.
And secrets. Always secrets, and the unveiling of guilt, and squishy emo everywhere. Sometimes that means murder, corruption, and the explosion of the friend group. The protagonist—typically a young adult—learns that the world is a cruel place and their innocent little heart just got stomped. But fashionably, and with excellent black coffee, and while quoting Jacobean poetry.
I love this stuff. It’s aspirational and ridiculous in equal measure. Best of all, it slides into my steampunk world with ease. Olivia attends the University of Londria, so creating a Dark Academia adventure for her—complete with murder mystery—was a perfect fit in Queen’s Tide. I’m having a ball. Watch out for the sea monsters.
Mysterious Mysteries
April 28, 2025 • No Comments
The newbie author is told to a) write to market and b) develop a unique brand and c) pray that these two directives do not collide in a shower of exploding adverbs. How is it possible to be unique and replicate a niche trend at the same time?
I’ve pondered this for a while. As a rule, I write a mashup of paranormal romance, steampunk, fantasy, and a pinch of horror. It’s all the niches at once and definitely not written to market. However, after the first 20+ books, my writing style doesn’t change much from book to book. My voice is solid, even if my marketing sense is on a bender.
That said, every so often I get a bright idea to try something new. Most recently, I thought I’d try writing a classic mystery. Properly. Following an outline, and all that. It was time to learn new chops.
Hunting down a cheat sheet with the requisite outline made sense. Writerly how-to can be gold or complete twaddle, but a basic series of plot beats was easy to adapt to the characters and setting I had in mind. In fact, the structure felt comforting while I was trying something new.
What I wasn’t prepared for is the amount of up-front detail a mystery requires. Not only did I have to know exactly how the murder happened and who did it, but also the suspects and their means, motive, and opportunities. On top of that, I have to keep a running record of what’s been revealed and to whom. All writing has its difficulties, but mysteries require monumental attention to detail. So far, I’m loving it.
What’s the same is all the things that make my writing my own: character development, setting, theme, and the quirky madness that lurks within my mental landscape. I think that’s the answer to the paradox of niche and brand—know your own writing so well, so intrinsically, that you can pour it into varying containers without changing its essential nature. And if the container feels wrong, discard it. The writing comes first, every time.
Trying different tropes and genres can be tricky for new writers. It’s easy to be a chameleon at that stage. I used to sound like the author I’d just read and had to avoid certain voices lest they creep onto my pages. Even now, I avoid Dickens unless I’m writing a period piece.
So, to go back to the writing advice at the top of this piece:
- Know what piece of the marketplace you’re aiming for. Know the tropes, expectations, and structure of the genre.
- Know who you are as a writer and think about how well that niche will work for you. Remember that you can adore something without having to write it, but the reverse is hard to pull off.
- Try it and see how it works. Make magic. If it’s not for you, there are a million other genres and sub-genres to check out. Smash a few together and make something new.
That’s as close to advice as I’m qualified to give. Oh, and watch out for exploding adverbs.