Category: Why it works

Why House of Quiet Works

Released in September of this year, House of Quiet is the latest novel by Kiersten White. This is the same author who brought us Mister Magic, Lucy Undying, The Dark Decent of Elizabeth Frankenstein, and Hide. Which is to say, the author of some of the best books I’ve read in the past few years.

House of Quiet is about a young woman named Birdie. She’s spent the last several years trying to find her little sister Magpie, who vanished after undergoing the mysterious Procedure. Birdie poses as a maid to get into the mysterious house of quiet. But what she finds there is a group of children who need to be rescued.

Today, we’re going to break it down and see why it works. Because there’s a lot that can be learned from this wonderfully dark, sweet tale.

Just jump in

The story starts in the middle of things. It starts with a mysterious woman wandering around the House of Quiet with a candle, bemoaning how loud it was.

We then jump to Birdie, heading to the house of quiet, thinking of all of the shady things she had to do to get there.

As we follow along, we only get an idea of the world she lives in and what she’s doing. We know that she’s grown up in crippling poverty. We know that she’s never speaking to her parents again. And that’s about it.

But that’s okay, because we’re going up to the house. We’re meeting the other new maids. We’re being drugged with tea. There is stuff going on, and there will be time to explain later. The important thing is that we’re not slowing down the start of our story. We are jumping right in.

Don’t over-explain

I spent a lot of this book trying to figure out what in the hell was going on. I wanted to know what happened to Magpie. I wanted to know what the procedure was. I wanted to know what had happened to Birdie’s friends. I wanted to know why Minnow was acting so strange.

And never once was any of this simply out and out explained.

No, the story was moving too fast for that sort of thing.

This was infuriating, but in a good way. Because everything is answered, eventually. It’s just that we have to piece things together as we go. Or, we find out as the characters do.

House of Quiet brought the ‘show don’t tell’ rule almost to its breaking point, but not quite. At no point did I feel so lost I thought I’d never catch up. But it wasn’t until near the end that I really felt like I knew what was happening.

This is a hard line to walk, giving just enough information for the reader to barely understand. But, I think the easiest way to do this is to have faith in your reader. Don’t feel like you’ve got to spell everything out for them. Leave some spaces for them to fill in the blanks themselves.

Anything can be used to world build

One of the most charming things about House of Quiet was the naming structure of the characters. People raised in poverty have animal names like Minnow, Magpie, and Birdie. People from the upper class have names like River or Forest.

This is a super quick and efficient way to give us information about a character with the fewest words possible. We know the character’s name, and we know what class the character is from. And in a book that is all about class warfare, that’s vital information.

This is a great example of using every element you can to world-build. Names, clothes, jewelry. Think about how all of these things impact our real world. And yes, you should be using any of these to show your world, rather than telling us about it.

Now, all this being said, this book wasn’t perfect. My biggest complaint, I think, is the relationship between the characters. They were, in my opinion, a little too sweet. They came together too quickly. They were too kind to each other. But, of course, this is a book for young adults. So maybe that’s why.

This was not enough to ruin the story for me. House of Quiet was a fun, heartwarming tale, and I enjoyed it greatly. If you haven’t read it yet, do it today.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what I do here, please consider liking and sharing this post and leaving a comment. You can also support me financially on Ko-fi.

And while you’re there, you can pick up a copy of my Novel Planner.

Writing a novel is a journey! Here is your roadmap.
The Novel Planner takes you through four weeks of planning to help you successfully write a novel. Includes twelve pages to plan your time, your team and your life.
Also included are some useful pages to keep track of your wip, like a map page and an injury tracking chart.

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How to ruin your story

The first season of Amazon Prime’s Upload launched in 2020. And I was hooked from the start. It’s the story of a man named Nathan who is uploaded to a virtual afterlife after his death. He is, we’ll say, less than pleased with this.

The show was funny, thought-provoking, and touching. It had a lot to say about class disparity and how artificial our lives are becoming. And every season left us with a killer cliffhanger.

The last season was released in August of this year. And it was just, just terrible. It was a slap in the face of fans. And while I don’t think it’s the worst series ending ever, it was pretty damned close.

Of course, there is no great loss without some small gain. As writers, we can learn from bad writing as easily as good writing. And the last season of Upload is a perfect example of almost every single way you can screw up your ending and leave fans feeling ripped off and betrayed. So let’s see exactly how you ruin a series.

Spoiler alert! There is no way I can talk about this ending without spoilers. So if you haven’t seen the season yet and somehow still want to after that intro, you’ll probably want to do that before reading more. I will also be giving some spoilers for the show Shitt’s Creek. It will make sense when we get there.

Add in stupid, unrealistic storylines

Upload has always been about one thing above all. Class disparity. How far companies will go to make a buck off the backs of anyone.

Well, that seems to have been scrapped this season. Instead, we got a story about the AI guys becoming sentient and taking on lives of their own. And, for some reason, corporate espionage that led to Aleesha becoming a super spy. At least I think that’s what happened there. It’s actually kind of hard to follow, since they only had four episodes to introduce this concept, then bring it to a conclusion.

Scrap your main antagonists and replace them with much worse ones

For the first three seasons, the main antagonists of Upload were David Choak, played by the incomparable William B. Davis, and Oliver Kannerman, played by Barclay Hope. They were two grossly wealthy white men who killed people without qualms because the people in question were poor. Choak at least doesn’t seem like a bad guy at first. Then you learn more about him.

These were good antagonists. We wanted to see them fall. What ended up happening to them was not satisfying. It was not significant. Both antagonists were just sort of pushed aside to make room for the evil AI Guy. Who was, by the way, a boring and lazy antagonist.

I do not care that an AI assistant became sentient. I do not think it’s believable that evil AI Guy was going to destroy the world in some mysterious way. It wasn’t interesting, it wasn’t scary, it wasn’t compelling. And maybe it could have been if the storyline had been given time to grow or evolve. But it sure as hell didn’t have that time.

Drop a bunch of storylines and characters

I ended this series with a lot of questions. Maybe you’ve had some of the same questions.

What happened to Nora’s dad? Didn’t he have a fatal disease?

What happened with the Luds? Are they still trying to fight against modern tech? Did they just scatter?

What happened to Jamie? We know he’s dead, and that’s all we know.

What happened to Byron? Is he doing okay? Is he still pining after Nora?

Did anyone even care that Fran died? Justice for Fran!

And where the hell were Navaya’s parents this whole time?

Now, there are some stories that left us with good questions. Hunger Games is a good example. But bad questions are a death sentence. These are questions that should have been answered a while ago. And it feels like if the show had had more time, it would have answered these. But that’s not an excuse. This felt less like an ending and more like a bleeding wound of a story.

Give your main characters a bad ending that wasn’t deserved

Some stories don’t have happy endings. Some characters get bad deaths they don’t deserve. Some good relationships end.

Let’s use Shitt’s Creek as an example. Specifically, the relationship between Alexis and Ted.

They were so good together. They loved each other. But in the end, they loved each other enough to let each other go.

I cry every time I watch this. When Ted says, “Can’t say we didn’t try,” I just lose it.

This ending, sad as it was, made sense for Alexis. She had spent her entire life doing dumb shit for men. She was running all over the world, getting into dangerous situations, and ignoring her own identity for men who did not care for her.

She needed to choose herself. That was sad, but it made sense for her character.

Now, let’s talk about the ending between Nora and Nathan.

It was Goddamned mean.

Nathan’s personal arch was never about needing to let go of his mortal life. That was, for some reason, never a story arc for any of the characters. His arch was about making good changes in the world.

As far as main characters go, Nathan was a perfect foil for the antagonists. He was a good-looking white man. And while he didn’t have money, he had the talent and ability to make money. A lot of money. He could have been the next Choak or Kannerman. Hell, he might have married Ingrid and taken the Kannerman name.

If Nathan had died saving someone, that would have made sense. If he’d died like Luke did, that would have been a satisfying but sad ending. Instead, he’s only a victim. He dies because of senseless abuse.

Give up on everyone’s story arcs

This actually leads me to my last issue. Not a single character had a satisfying personal arc. Except maybe the AI Guy.

Dylan never got to grow up.

Luke was erased and never learned to love himself.

Ingrid got everything she thought she wanted, instead of learning that she can be a whole well well-rounded person without Nathan.

Aleesha achieved all the safety she deserved, then gave it up to become a corporate spy.

And Nora, our main character, really got shafted. She wanted to find someone to know her, but she had trouble letting people in. And she finally does. She trusts Nathan and loves him. And he dies senselessly.

There’s nothing there. Yes, I saw the ending. It’s bullshit. It’s not enough. Which honestly sums up my whole opinion about this final season.

In the end, the failure of this last season of Upload lies firmly with the writers. Yes, I am sure there was pressure from higher-ups. There always is. This was put out by Amazon, after all. But the writers could have done more.

The actors did a fantastic job. The effects were as good as ever. But the story is what we’re here for. And the story failed in every way possible. So learn from this, writers. Don’t make these same mistakes. Write better.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what I do here, please consider liking and sharing this post and leaving a comment. You can also support me financially on Ko-fi.

Spooky season is coming, and it’s time for some creepy reads. Check out my horror novel Quiet Apocalypse, about a witch trapped in her apartment during a dark winter storm with a demon devoted to ending the world.

Or check out my horror short, The Man In The Woods. A man tries desperately to protect his granddaughter from the mysterious man in the woods. But his fear only grows when a new housing complex is built too close to the woods.

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Why The Dead Husband Cookbook Works

I will do my best to avoid food puns in this post. But I might not be able to help it. Sometimes they’re just too tasty.

See, we’re starting already.

Released on the fifth of this month, The Dead Husband Cookbook is the latest novel from Danielle Valentine. If you’re just joining us, she’s written three novels so far that I’ve absolutely devoured.

Wow, two so far.

The Dead Husband Cookbook is about two women. One, Thea, an editor who’s hanging onto her career by a thread. She committed the ultimate sin of, gasp, revealing an author she was working for to be a predator. But she’s given a chance to redeem herself when a celebrity chef, Maria Capello, asks for her specifically to edit her brand new memoir. The memoir, which might, after years of speculation, put to rest the rumors of how her husband died.

So let’s break it down, like a good recipe. Let’s talk about what went into The Dead Husband Cookbook and why it works.

I loved the recipes

Through the book, we’re treated to some of Maria’s recipes. Now, I’m not as deeply into cooking as I am some other things, but I do enjoy it. I like a simple recipe full of things I can recognize and easily get at Walmart. I like making a recipe with the tools already in my kitchen.

I have managed to not buy an immersion blender for thirty-nine years, and I’d like to keep it that way.

All of these recipes are like that. Well, maybe not the one for duck. I’ve never seen duck at a grocery store here in Western PA. But then, I’ve never looked for one.

I got the e-book version of this book, just to make sure I can hang onto the recipes and try them. This made me feel immersed in the story. I, like Thea, will try my hand at making Maria Capello’s meatballs. Mine probably won’t taste the same either.

But it’s these little details that make reading a book not a passive experience. You get to become part of the story in a small way. That’s fun.

This feels like a book within a book

I am always a sucker for stories with additional documents in them. Journal entries, a VHS someone found tucked behind the guest room dresser, old medical records. And in this case, a manuscript that Thea is editing. As a reader, it breaks up the flow of the story in a good way. We feel like we have as well found something illicit. Something we’re not supposed to read or see, but now we’ve got our hands on it.

As a writer, this is also fun. It’s a way to experiment with different writing styles and formats. Even with different voices, as the pov of found content is different from our main characters. This leaves you open to all sorts of fun experimentation. And if the writer’s having fun, the reader will too. And Valentine was having fun when she was writing Maria.

Maria is creepy as hell, but not for the normal reasons

I loved the character, Maria. As someone who’s spent way too much time in medical waiting rooms, I’m familiar with the celebrity chefs she’s based on. The Pioneer Woman, Martha Stewart, The Barefoot Contessa, Rachel Ray. They all give off this air of near perfection. Like Maria, they appear smiling, joyful, endlessly energetic and endlessly working to feed others. I am a rabid feminist and I still sort of want to be that. I want to be the woman who saunters into a gorgeous, well-lit kitchen and throws together a fabulous meal without getting a single stain on my expensive blouse.

But I think we all know that these women are performing. They’re acting. And under that character, they’re real people. People with a whole range of human emotions and access to many sharp knives.

Maria isn’t scary in the way the killers from Never Flinch or Mexican Gothic are. She’s more like President Snow. She has the power, the money, and the know-how to destroy anyone she wants. She also has the will to do so. And she’ll sleep well that night.

Thea is very relatable

Unlike Maria, Thea is a relatable character. She’s struggling in a very Millennial way, trying to care for her family and her mother. She doesn’t know how to talk about what she needs to other people. She doesn’t know how to stand up to anyone at the start of the book.

But she’ll stand up for other people.

I also loved how much of a mom Thea is. Early in the book, she notes that Maria’s granddaughter has impeccable table manners. She’s not impressed, she’s concerned. That kid sat at the table and ate with a fork without spilling or interrupting seven times with incomprehensible questions? Nope, doesn’t pass the vibe check.

I also loved her constant irritation at having no internet connection. Look, I can’t do my work without the internet either. I have three tabs open just to write this post. She’s not irritated because she can’t scroll through Instagram before bed. She needs to be in communication with the people who depend on her and do research, damn it! Let the woman access Zoom.

The tension is thick

I was nervous as soon as Thea stepped into Maria’s house. It felt like she was stepping into a killing bottle. A well-appointed one, an expensive one, but a killing bottle nonetheless.

It started when they took her phone. Then her keys. Then she couldn’t get out through the Wi-Fi.

I don’t think we realize sometimes how accustomed we’ve come to being able to communicate with others. We can casually chat with people all over the world. I haven’t seen my best friend face-to-face since December. We talk all day long.

As soon as Thea arrives, though, she can’t contact anyone. Not just anyone. She can’t communicate with her boss, who is looking for an excuse to fire her. She can’t communicate with her team, who are waiting to make crucial publishing decisions on a short deadline. She can’t communicate with her husband and daughter.

Setting aside the horror part of this horror story, that is an anxious situation. Not being able to reach people who might need us, who usually do need us, is stressful.

As always, horror works best when it’s grounded in reality. Most of us will not be trapped in a killer chef’s house. All of us have felt stressed out because someone might need us, and can’t reach us. So when that layer of physical danger is layered over this emotion that we are familiar with, it feels so much more real.

I adored The Dead Husband Cookbook. Aside from everything else, it was a grown-up horror. It was a scary story that felt real to adult experiences. It relied on real fears and anger that real adults feel. All in all, it’s another hit from an author who hasn’t missed yet.

So now I want to hear from you. Did you read The Dead Husband Cookbook? Let us know what you think in the comments. And if there’s a book you want me to pick apart to see why it works, let me know that as well.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what I do here, please consider liking and sharing this post and leaving a comment. You can also support me financially on Ko-fi.

Spooky season is coming, and it’s time for some creepy reads. Check out my horror novel Quiet Apocalypse, about a witch trapped in her apartment during a dark winter storm with a demon devoted to ending the world.

Or check out my horror short, The Man In The Woods. A man tries desperately to protect his granddaughter from the mysterious man in the woods. But his fear only grows when a new housing complex is built too close to the woods.

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Why The Bewitching Works

Released on July 15th, The Bewitching is the latest book from Sylvia Moreno-Garcia. If you don’t know who that is, where have you been?

It’s the story of three women battling dark entities and evil workings. A story that spans decades and miles to tie Mexican witchcraft with New England witchcraft. It’s about blood, greed, and power.

In this book, we meet Alba, a restless young woman who wants to escape her family’s farm with her dashing uncle. We also meet her great-granddaughter, Minerva, a college student suffering from burnout while working on her thesis. Finally, and my personal favorite, we meet Beatrice Tremblay, a young writer in love with her college roommate who mysteriously vanishes one cold, dark winter night.

I loved every second of it. So let’s take the story apart and talk about why The Bewitching works.

Every time I talk about Moreno-Garcia, I have to talk about her settings. When reading one of her stories, you can feel the places her characters live in. In Alba’s parts, we walk on a family-run Mexican farm, plucking chickens and sewing patches on rowdy children’s clothes. When we’re with Beatrice, we can feel the constrained and manicured lives of female college students during the Great Depression. Minerva’s parts feel like a campus town in the summer. All but abandoned.

We see this and feel this because each character feels these things. It’s in the small bits of internal monologue. An itchy collar on a dress. Meeting your dance date in the lobby of your dorm. The trees rustling, the sunlight turned green coming through their leaves.

It’s the smallest details, told matter-of-factly, that make this possible. The characters talk about what they’re experiencing with their senses as though we must know what that feels like. And we do.

A major theme in Moreno-Garcia’s books is romance. Love stories. In Bewitching, the theme is more about lost love. More than that, losing the opportunity for love. The almost romance that will never be. That sort of thing.

This is something I think most of us have felt. The unrequited crush. The relationship was just never timed right. Or the love that was taken from us by the tragedy of one sort or another.

This makes the pain of the characters relatable. And it’s something I don’t think we see enough of in fiction.

There are plenty of meet-cutes. (Bleh). Plenty of slow burn, will they won’t they sort of stories. Even plenty of loves taken too soon. But they got to the love part first.

Losing someone who was never really yours is a different sort of pain. It’s strange, still trying to shift through feelings that were never fully grown. Strange to explain to people why you feel how you feel. Because it’s not the loss of a life or a loved one. It’s the loss of what could have been, and now never will. This is something that is explored in heartbreaking detail in this book.

Finally, I have to talk about the witchcraft in The Bewitching. Because, just in case you didn’t know, I’m a practitioner. There’s a lit spell candle on my desk as I write this.

Much like in Silver Nitrate, another book by the same author, the witchcraft in this book makes sense. I loved the practitioners in Alba’s village, selling protections and trinkets. It feels real. I loved Ginny’s automatic writing being used to contact her mother. I loved the cryptic warnings and tarot cards. And I especially loved the explicit explanation of intent in this book. Because I can tell you from experience, intent is the most important thing in witchcraft. No spell works without it. But I have worked magic with nothing but my intent and words on a page. Candles, crystals and herbs are all well and good. Iron and bowls of blessed water are lovely. But nothing matters more than intent.

I’ve mentioned before that Sylvia Moreno-Garcia is either a practitioner or did all the right research. Either way, the witchcraft in The Bewitching gets this witch’s seal of approval.

If you haven’t read The Bewitching yet, go do it. If you have read it and loved it as much as I did, you have great taste. I recommend reading Lucy Undying by Kiersten White, Mexican Gothic by Sylvia Moreno-Garcia, The Hacienda by Isabel Canas, or Quiet Apocalypse by me. Each one has a witchy or historical vibe that will certainly keep you up at night.

Now I want to hear from you. Did you read The Bewitching? If so, what did you think of it? Let us know in the comments. And if there’s a book or movie you want me to pick apart to see why it works, let me know that as well.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what I do here, please consider liking and sharing this post and leaving a comment. You can also support me financially on Ko-fi.

Spooky season is coming, and it’s time for some creepy reads. Check out my horror novel Quiet Apocalypse, about a witch trapped in her apartment during a dark winter storm with a demon devoted to ending the world.

Or check out my horror short, The Man In The Woods. A man tries desperately to protect his granddaughter from the mysterious man in the woods. But his fear only grows when a new housing complex is built too close to the woods.

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Why Incidents Around The House Works

Released in June of last year, Incidents Around The House is an interesting book. It’s a fantastic example of a modern horror novel, and I read it in a matter of days. If I’d had nothing else pulling at my attention, I’d likely have read it in a matter of hours.

Incidents Around The House is a story of a girl named Bela and her family. It is told from Bela’s point of view, in a stream-of-consciousness manner that ignores silly things like grammar, paragraphs, and sentence structure. It is simply the story told from the point of view of a little girl, exactly as she would tell it. And while that was off-putting at first, it wasn’t long before I couldn’t have cared less.

That being said, I would consider this to be an interesting and experimental choice. And one that could have backfired terribly. But it didn’t. Instead, Incidents Around The House was one of my favorite books of the year so far. So let’s break it down and see why it works.

There was no need to convince anyone that bad things were happening

Often at the start of a horror novel, especially a haunted house novel, a lot of time is wasted. Our main character has to convince themself, and possibly others around them, that yes something deeply ominous and dangerous is in fact happening.

In this book, there was none of this. Bela, our main character, knows that something is wrong. And she doesn’t waste any time trying to explain this to her parents. She’d rather her parents not know about ‘Other Mommy’. So we’re able to skip a lot of the tedious, “Why won’t anyone believe me?” nonsense and get right to the “There’s literally something hunting our child,” part of the story.

There’s a great lesson for writers in this. You can skip the tedious parts of a story. You can skip the bits we’ve all seen before. You can skip the boring bits. Because if they’re boring to you, they’re boring to the reader.

Now, is your story going to be nonstop action all the time? Of course not. You’ll build ambiance and character. You need time to set the scene. But you can do this in interesting ways. Certainly, Incidents Around The House does this, introducing Bela and her parents over breakfast while Other Mommy looms in the background.

The sense of despair is great

Throughout the story, Bela and her family turn to one person after another for help with the Other Mommy. Over and over they’re betrayed, turned away and abandoned.

We can feel the frustration in the parents, even though they aren’t the main characters. Even better, we can feel the confusion and helplessness of poor little Bela. She’s realizing, maybe for the first time in her young life that not only do her parents not have everything under control, but most adults don’t either.

This leads to an isolating, choking sort of feeling. One that we feel right along with poor Bela and her parents. It’s horrifying, and quite well done.

This is something I struggle with, personally. Taking away all options from a character. Giving a character hell. But that’s what leads us to a riveting story. It’s certainly what drives me to finish a story. Not just a desire to know what happens, but a need to know how in the hell the characters get themselves out of this mess.

The story played on justifiable fears

Often when writers write children, outside of children’s literature, the characters don’t feel like children. They feel like little adults.

I am astounded by how much Bela feels like a child. And this truly increases the horror of the story. Because this is not a child-friendly story. This is a story that deals with some adult situations. Situations that I wouldn’t want any child to have to experience.

And that is, of course, the point. It is scary to imagine a child going through things their adults can’t protect them from. This allows the story to be ‘real world’ scary instead of just fictionally scary.

Horror always works best when it’s an allegory to something we’re actually afraid of. Most of us don’t fear a demon coming out of our child’s closet to get them. We are scared of them being in danger and not knowing how to help them.

The experimental art form didn’t get in the way of the story

Sometimes when a story’s told in an unusual way, it feels forced. It feels like there was more interest from the writer in experimenting with this new form than in telling the actual story.

And this particular format was a hard sell for me. I don’t want to say I’m a grammar snob, but I am. So if this story hadn’t grabbed me so quickly, so completely, I would have been too uncomfortable with the unstructured structure.

But the story came first. The format fits well with the story being told and allows Bela to truly be center stage.

All in all, Incidents Around The House was a masterclass in creeping horror. It inspired me to try some out-of-the-box formatting with my work. And it certainly inspired some uneasy moments.

As a matter of housekeeping, I will not be posting anything next week because I will be at Nebula Con and it’s my birthday. But we’ll be back with our regularly scheduled post on June 13th.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what we do here, you can support us by liking and sharing this post. You can also support us financially on Ko-fi.

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Why Who Holds The Devil Works

In December last year, I was privileged to attend a local writer’s event at my library. Many of the authors, including me, gave small talks during the event. You can read my talk here.

Another author who spoke was Michael Dittman. And the story he told about his book was enough to have me rushing over to his booth at my first chance to grab a copy.

When I got there, I had just one question. Is the witch a good guy? Dittman laughed and said yes, she was.

So I bought the book, Who Holds The Devil. And I am so pleased I did. It was a wonderfully fun read.

Published in 2022, Who Holds the Devil is the story of a man named Aaron. He’s a quiet man who works as a researcher/ghost writer for authors and is healing from a bad divorce. One morning, his quiet healing is interrupted when the city tears down a massive tree and takes out part of his brick wall in the process.

At first, Aaron only wants to get his wall fixed. But he soon finds himself beset by a horrific spirit determined to possess him.

The main character is relatable

The main character, Aaron Moody, is going through some stuff. He’s been through a divorce. He’s being jerked around by his employers, taken advantage of. His hard work is being dismissed. He’s sad, frustrated and angry. And then a bloody tree is taken down improperly and busts up his stone wall.

From the start, he’s just a regular guy who finds himself in a terrifying paranormal situation through no fault of his own. But when the time comes, he runs towards danger and not away. He was, in my opinion, a fantastic guy to root for.

We need to see more animal friends in adult fiction

Aaron doesn’t have a cat himself. But he does occasionally get visits from his neighbor’s cat, Mr. B. As I’m sure you can imagine in a book about demons and witches, Mr. B does become an important part of the story.

I don’t know why more books for adults don’t have animal characters. They’re always great. They always add something to the story.

The witchcraft makes sense

As a practicing witch, I love a story that includes realistic witchcraft. Which isn’t, of course, to say that anyone in the real world can steal someone’s voice while sitting in a coffee shop. But the studying feels real. The laying of sigils and the use of protection magic feel very real.

Always a good thing. And since I don’t think Dittman is a witch himself, it suggests that he did his research.

I loved reading about a place I’m so familiar with

While this might not apply to everyone, it will for sure apply to anyone who is from my little town or Pittsburgh. It was so fun reading about places I have been. I have lived near Institute Hill. I’ve even walked up it, God help me. I recognize places described in this book because I’ve lived in these places since childhood. At one point, I was literally walking down Main Street while reading (a terrible habit but one I’ve never gotten over) and realized the character and I were in nearly the same place. And that was freaking cool!

This book is the perfect example of writing what you know

All of that brings me to the best lesson you, as a writer, can take from Who Holds The Devil.

Through this book, it’s clear that Dittman is writing about things he knows. Things he has experience with. He knows how to research a novel. It’s clear he’s had to deal with our courthouse and knows the weird puzzle box of a building it is. He knows this town. He might or might not be in the process of stealing his neighbor’s cat.

All of these details are real. And so it helps us to follow along with the story when it becomes unreal. When the demons start crawling out and infecting people’s minds, it’s scarier because it feels like it could happen.

This is what writers mean when we say ‘write what you know’. We are never saying that you should only write about things you have experienced. While you might have some fantastic stories, that would probably kill most fantasy and sci-fi unless you’ve got a pet dragon or a spaceship in the backyard. But you can include things you do fundamentally understand, and then build the fiction around that.

All in all, there’s a lot to be learned from Who Holds The Devil. It was a delight to read, and I would recommend it to all of you. And if there’s a book, movie or TV show that you’d like me to pick apart to see why it works, let me know in the comments.

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Why Sunrise on The Reaping Works

So I just finished reading Sunrise on The Reaping. And it emotionally wrecked me.

Yes, I know these books are written for teenagers. I don’t care, they’ve had me crying in public more than once.

I happened to be carrying the book with me as I was running errands. One of those errands was to return the book safely to the library from where it came. But in one shop, the man behind the counter said, “Oh, that’s that new Hunger Games book, right? I heard that was coming out.”

And I said, “Yes, I just finished it.”

“Is it any good?” he asked, “Or is it just a money grab?”

“Oh no,” I said, as though those two things were mutually exclusive. “It’s very good.”

I know the accusations get thrown around often when an author comes back to a popular series and adds more to the story. And sometimes it’s a valid argument. Sometimes it’s even a warning of elder abuse.

IYKYK.

But I honestly don’t think that Suzanne Collins wrote Reaping because she was running low on cash. And frankly, even if she did, I’m not mad at it. Because even if she wrote this book for money, it was still a damned good book. So today, let’s talk about why Sunrise on The Reaping was such a good prequel. Aside, of course, from the many reasons why this series is great to begin with. I was obsessed with re-reading the series after I finished Reaping, and I’m shocked by how good it is. How accurate it is. I’m sure I’ll talk more about that later, but for today, let’s just focus on Sunrise on The Reaping.

The story made sense with the rest of the series

The story of Haymich’s Hunger Games fits thematically with the rest of the series. It felt like the rest of the books if that makes sense.

Most good writers have a voice. They have certain ways of phrasing things, word preferences, and pacing that cannot and should not be taught. It’s something we writers develop over time.

And it’s something that changes over time. Take for instance Stephen King’s Castle Rock books versus his Holly books. They have a different feel, don’t they? Not entirely different, but enough that it’s noticeable. This is partially because they’re very different series that deal with different subject matter and different sorts of main characters. They were also written decades apart from each other, of course. And that’s the really tricky part. Writing voices change over time. While that’s to be expected and is in fact a good thing, it can also be difficult if you want to go back and add something to your series later.

But Reaping feels very much like the rest of the series. It feels like a similar vibe, a similar voice. And that’s not an easy thing to do.

This world feels like it is filled with stories

One of the great things about the world of Hunger Games is that it feels like it’s full of stories. Katniss has one story, and it feels like an ending. But it’s also an open ending. There are ways that the story can continue.

And there are certainly ways it can expand in the past. I mean, we have how many Hunger Games between Katniss’s and Lucy Gray’s? And what about the war that started all of this? What about the calamity that befell the world to give us Panem to start with? And we haven’t even learned that much about the other districts. I mean, I love District 12 because it’s basically where I live. But there are twelve other districts we could learn about. I’d read a book about a victor from each one, personally. I also wouldn’t mind a book about District 13 and how it fell.

I have no idea if we’re going to get any of those books. I don’t know if Collins plans to write anymore in this world. But I hope she does. We’ve barely scratched the surface of this world she’s created.

It was a well-written story that built on all of the other books

As I mentioned earlier, this story built well on the rest of the series.

We already knew there was a reason Haymich was a drunk. Now we have every tragic detail. We know what it must have cost him, year after year, to work with kids bound for the games. We understand more why he had such affection for Mags, and why he has such a mixed series of emotions around Trinket. Above all else, this is what compelled me to go back and read the rest of the series again.

But this book also adds to Snow’s story from Songbirds and Snakes. It also adds to Bettie’s story and Wiress’s. In short, it expanded the world in ways that built up, rather than ignoring, the work that had been done before.

It’s not the first prequel that was satisfying

Speaking of Songbirds and Snakes, as well as work already done, that was also a good book. Much of what I’ve said about Reaping can be said about that one as well.

Having one prequel that was already a joy made me far more excited to read this one. Because, to me at least, it proved that Collins was still eager to write in this world, and still had more stories to tell. It’s said that the first chapter of your book sells your book, while the last chapter sells the sequel. That was certainly the case here.

It was clearly a joy to write

Finally, this might just be writer bias. But because the book is so well written, I have to assume that it was fun to write. Collins was passionate about writing it.

Writing takes time, as you’re probably aware. Time that could be used to do just about anything else. To put in the time and effort it takes to write a good book, you need to care about what you’re writing. It needs to move you, to pull you back again and again. Your passion for the story has to be enough to get through the exhausting days. The days when everyone else has needed so much of you. You’ve gone to work, made one to three meals, and cleaned and cared for loved ones both flesh and furry. On the days when it feels like committing yourself to one more thing might break you, you need to feel passionate about your story to make it happen.

That’s why I think Reaping was written with love. You can feel that Collins had something to say. Something she needed to say.

I hope she has more to say. And I hope that if you haven’t yet read Sunrise on The Reaping you get a chance to soon.

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We need to talk about A Well-Trained Wife

Sorry, today’s post isn’t ten-themed. There will be more of that this week. But I just finished A Well Trained Wife by Tia Levings. And I need to talk about it.

Like, a lot.

For those who saw Happy, Shiny People on Amazon, Levings’s name might sound familiar. That documentary introduced me to her, as well as Fundy Fridays, one of my favorite YouTube channels. It also set off a very long journey into the anti-fundamentalist movement for me. A Well Trained Wife is part of that journey.

A gut punch part, but a part nonetheless.

I feel like I sat across from Tia over coffee and heard all of this. I delighted in her successes. I felt rage when people abused her. Honestly, after reading this book I kind of want to put her ex-husband’s name in a vinegar jar. The only thing stopping me is that I doubt Tia would be too happy with that.

This book talked about a lot of situations I have personal experience with. I was also in a physically abusive relationship. I was also raised in a high-control fundamentalist religion. I also escaped from both. Maybe that’s why I have such a strong reaction to this book. Maybe there are way too many of us who might feel that way.

And I have one more thing in common with Tia, which I’ll get to soon. In the meantime, I want to talk about why this book was so powerful, and why everyone should read it.

So many horrible, beautiful lines

When you read A Well Trained Wife, you might want to do so with a highlighter. Or at least the highlighter function on your tablet at the ready. Because there are so many lines that jump off the page and demand to be remembered. Of course, the best example of this is the tagline for the book.

“Today it hit me when he hit me, blood shaking in my brain. Maybe there wasn’t a savior coming. Maybe it was up to me to save me.”

Damn Tia, I feel like I got hit after reading that line.

Her healing hasn’t been easy

I thought Tia’s story was going to end after she escaped from her ex-husband and divorced him. But the story went on. She talked, openly and honestly, about her healing process. How it wasn’t a straight line. There were setbacks, backtracking. She got into a relationship too early. She had to go to several therapists before she found one who helped her. She got sick and had to help heal herself. She had to rest. She wasn’t able to be the mother she wanted to be.

I think too often we end stories too soon. We don’t see the emotional fallout. The monster is defeated, the hero saves the day, and we assume everyone’s going to live happily ever after.

This is fine in fiction, to a point. But it’s not how real life works. When we experience trauma, we have to heal from that. We don’t just bounce back. Especially after years and years of trauma.

When I left an abusive situation, I was very much in that movie healing headspace. I left that ex, left my high control group church, and thought life would be all good. After all, I was free at last!

But it’s not that simple. Leaving is, first off, not always safe. It’s not always easy. Sometimes some factors mean you have to keep seeing your abuser and smiling like we’re all friends now. Shouldn’t we be able to laugh about the time he shoved me against the wall and grabbed my arm so hard he left bruises? Oh, was I not supposed to tell the new girlfriend that story? Oh well, here’s that box of T-shirts you left in the back of the closet. See you later!

Healing is healing. And healing from emotional trauma takes time. I am still healing from my experiences. And Tia is as well.

We don’t expect someone who survived a house fire to be out to brunch with a smile the next day. We shouldn’t expect it of people healing from trauma either. And I hope that I’m not the only one who feels seen reading this.

Her message is terrifying, and it’s one that I can echo

As I’ve already hinted, I have a lot of the same trauma as Tia. However, I do want to point out that I never experienced anything as horrific as she did. I grew up in a high-control church, surrounded by women who toed the gender expectation line and insisted that I do the same.

Levings says that she wrote this book because she wants to warn people about the rising of Fundamental values in our country. The Joshua Generation is rising. And those of us who escaped that life, those who still carry physical and emotional marks, are terrified of it. And we’ve got to sound the warning.

We cannot force gender expectations on people. Especially the children coming up. It kills kids. Men and women suffer under this umbrella of expectations that most if not all of us fall short of. That none of us should expect of ourselves.

Look, I don’t talk about my faith a lot here because it’s very personal, but I feel compelled to say this. Gender norms are defined by people, not God. God does not care if girls wear jeans or boys wear skirts. God wants us to thrive, and care for each other.

As the prophets Bill and Ted say, be excellent to each other. That’s all that matters.

Making someone feel shitty because they don’t fall in line with made-up owner manuals our genitals seem to come with is not being excellent to each other.

Writing saved her

Finally, as this is a writing blog, I’d like to bring our discussion back to writing.

A lot of things came into Tia saving herself. Her maternal need to protect her children. Her friendships woven across the country across the internet. Her bravery. Her kindness.

It was also her writing, though.

Her writing was an outlet while she was trapped. Her writing gave her an outside community that her husband couldn’t control. Her need to create gave her the strength to stand up for herself. It empowered her to seek God in a new home.

Writing saved her.

Writing saved me, too.

Your art can save you. It can give you freedom in a cage. Sanity in an insane world. Quiet in a storm. Or a safe place to be the storm yourself.

I highly encourage you to read A Well-Trained Wife. It is a hard read, but so very worth it.

Be who you are.

Cling to your art with bared claws.

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Why The Hacienda Works

Been a while since we’ve done a Why It Works, hasn’t it? Well, I’ve got a good one for you today.

Released in May of 2022 and written by Isabel Canas, The Hacienda first caught my eye for one simple reason. It was compared favorably to Mexican Gothic. And I loved Mexican Gothic.

And yes, they do have a similar vibe. A lot of good things I have to say about Mexican Gothic can also be said about The Haçienda and vice versa. With one big difference that I will get to shortly.

Of course, the fact that one of the characters is a Catholic priest and a witch didn’t hurt.

So let’s break down why The Hacienda works. Hopefully, we’ll learn something useful for our WIPs.

The characters. It’s always the characters

For me, it always is the characters. And Beatriz is a fantastic main character. She’s ballsy, she’s brave, she’s kind. But she also puts herself in shitty situations because she tries to make situations with bad people work. She refuses to stand up for herself before it’s too late because she’s afraid of losing this home she found for herself.

For me, Beatriz works as well because she’s taken what most of us might find a selfish action but done for reasonable reasons.

After her father is taken from their home and executed, she and her mother end up living with relatives who do not like them, but take them in out of familial guilt. They are not wanted, they are not loved, and this is not a home for them. Beatriz doesn’t live in a world where she can pull a Cher. She can’t become a rich man, she has to marry one. So she does, not for power or wealth. But for a thing we all want, a safe home where we can feel like we belong and are wanted.

Then there’s Padre Andres. And maybe I’m biased, being a Christian Witch, but I thought the Witch Priest concept was fantastic.

Andres is a person still trying to figure out how he fits into the world, but he knows what’s important to him. The Lord, and the people he’s been tasked from birth to protect as their healer and now their priest. He may be confused about a lot, but not about that.

The descriptions

Oh, the descriptions in this book were amazing. They were rich and lush. Reading this book, I could smell the hot air of the desert.

This was done in subtle ways. But the best thing that Canas does with this is to give us two main characters who see the Hacienda in very different ways. So we as readers can experience it in these different ways.

Beatriz comes to the Hacienda having never seen it before, but already in love with it as a concept. In this way, we can see the house, as she describes it. It doesn’t feel like an info dump when she walks through the house, because she is experiencing it for the first time. It makes sense that she would take note of the smells, the tiles, the furniture, or the lack thereof.

When Andres arrives, it’s equally logical that he would notice everything different from when he was a child in this house. He would notice darkness where there was once light.

This made all the descriptions make more sense, and also feel more meaningful.

The magic

Now, I’m a witch. But I’m a Western PA witch, not a Mexican one. So it was fascinating to see how magic is different there than it is here. And yet, the actions and rituals felt similar.

I would burn cedar, not copal. But I am familiar with writing sigils for protection, burning herbs to chase away something that feels dark, and lighting candles to keep out the shadows. The magic in The Hacienda felt both familiar and completely new to me, like a dish I’ve made a hundred times crafted by someone else who is accustomed to cooking with different spices.

So while the hauntings and magic in the book are, of course, fictional, they feel just real enough.

Just the right things left unsaid

Finally, this was I think the best thing about this book. And it’s the part that Mexican Gothic, fantastic as it was, didn’t quite manage.

This book leaves a lot unsaid. I don’t want to ruin the ending for you, but there are lots of questions with only implied answers.

But in the most wonderful way.

There is a lesson that visual artists learn early. That the spots left blank on a canvas are just as important as the ones you paint. Musicians learn this as well, and a properly timed moment of silence in a song can bring you to tears.

I don’t think that we as writers pay as much attention to that. I know that I tend to over-explain. In reviewing my work, I am sometimes reminded of episodes of Bojack when he tells a joke and then asks the audience if they got it. I’m working on not doing that, but it is a challenge.

In The Hacienda, that isn’t a struggle. We don’t get every answer, every detail, every story because we can consider them ourselves. And those questions had me thinking of this book long after I finished it.

Hell, I’m still thinking about it.

So if you haven’t read The Hacienda, read it. It was a dark, wonderful tale that I truly enjoyed. And if there’s a book, show or movie you’d like to see me break down to tell you why it works, let me know in the comments below.

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Why The Daughter of Dr. Moreau only half worked

Spoiler warning: While I’m not going to directly spoil the ending of The Daughter of Dr. Moreau, I’m going to say some things that will make certain parts of the ending fairly clear. You’ve been warned. 

I feel dirty even writing this post. Because I’ve read other books by Silvia Moreno-Garcia and I loved them. You can check out my review of Mexican Gothic here, Velvet Was The Night here, or God of Jade and Shadow here. They were great books! 

The Daughter of Dr. Moreau was, at best, okay. 

Let’s discuss.

The book did have a lot to love. Moreno-Garcia has a knack for writing endings that aren’t the anticipated happy ending but are so much more satisfying than that ending would have been. And for sure, this ending fit that bill. 

I fell in love with our main character, Carlota, right away. Just like I always fall in love with the main characters. I devoured the lush description of the jungle, just like I always love the descriptions in Moreno-Garcia’s work. These are the reasons I kept reading. 

My problem with this book is simple. It tried to be two things and didn’t manage either.

The book is supposed to be a sci-fi thriller and a romance. All of Moreno-Garcia’s books have that romantic element. I don’t adore that, not being a huge romance fan, but it fits in so well normally that it’s hard to argue with it.

But the romance genre has certain expectations. One huge expectation is that the love interest is going to end up with the main character. That didn’t happen. Worse, there was a gross age difference between Carlota and the man in love with her. 

This wouldn’t have bothered me that much, since it’s unrequited love if so damn much of the book hadn’t been devoted to Carlota wanting to fall in love!

She does fall for and has a full-on relationship with another man named Eduardo Lizalde. A lot of the book centers around what a bad match this is, how everyone knows it’s a bad match, and how Carlota’s father wants this match to work because Eduardo is rich. How much this is all hurting Langdon, our other MC.

At this point, I’d like to remind you that they are surrounded by hybrid monsters. I do not give a damn if Langdon is drinking himself sick because he doesn’t want Carlota to be hurt by some callous rich boy. At least, I don’t care half so much as I do about the hybrids meeting up with the rebel leaders to overthrow the elite of the area and bring freedom to the land.

That’s the book I want to read! 

But the hybrids and their plight seem like little more than a backdrop. I know we were introduced to more hybrids, but we only really get to know one of them, Lupe. 

This wasn’t enough to make me lose interest in this author. The other books are strong enough to tell me this was a temporary issue. But The Daughter of Dr. Moreau isn’t one I’ll be re-reading anytime soon. 

To sum it up, here’s what you can learn from The Daughter of Dr. Moreau.

-Don’t go halfway in a story. 

-Understand your genre expectations, and either meet or subvert them. 

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