Tag: writing advice

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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Starting Chains is launching wide on May 30th. Click here to see everywhere it will be available.

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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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My review of Inspiring Creativity Through Magick

Writing and magic seem to go hand in hand. When I started my witchcraft practice, I was shocked by how many witches were also writers.

Well, not just writers. Singers, painters, dancers, actors. Witches seem drawn to art.

That makes sense to me. Writing has always seemed to me a tangible form of magic. To be able to experience other worlds while lying on your couch. To be distracted in stressful times and invited to another place or time. To hear the thoughts and musings of people long dead, but still here in ink and paper. To write something, and have it read by people all over the world.

That’s magic.

Many books have been written about writing from a magic perspective. I’ve read a few. But, I’ve never really talked about them here. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because the witch part of my life still feels like something very private. I’m slowly getting over that. I even posted a whole Modern Witch review series on Haunted MTL. So I think it’s time to introduce you to my favorite writing books for witches. Because if there’s one thing that’s universal, it’s that we all want to be better artists.

Today, we’re talking about Inspiring Creativity Through Magick, by Astrea Taylor.

Published in 2023, Inspiring Creativity Through Magick is a firsthand guide to creating a fulfilling ritual around your art. It walks the reader through each step of the creation process, from inspiration to the final product. And it is delightful.

The book starts with a conversation about creative spirits. Muses, and the like. This was great fun, and I actually learned about spirits I hadn’t heard of before.

The thing I appreciated most about this part was the discussion of the unnamed creative spirits that many artists say they’ve come in contact with. Taylor even mentions Stephen King talking about his muse in one of my favorite writing books of all time, On Writing. There he talks about his muse being a short man with a cigar that might show up and start working his magic if King puts the work in and all the conditions are right.

Taylor also talks about Big Magic, another book I’ve talked about here. This book also talks about feeling as though the artist is a partner in the act of creation. We are all capable of tapping into the creative flow of the universe and inviting spirits that want to help us bring our creations to life.

And we know this is true. Every artist has those moments when it doesn’t even feel like we’re on the same plane of existence anymore. When the words are coming or the paint is flying with no effort. When all the pieces fall together, or that subplot now makes sense and is exactly what the main story needed, or the character says just the right (or wrong) thing at just the perfect time. When you write a poem that just smacks you between the eyes because it’s so true, and you hadn’t even thought of those words before they were in front of you on the page, somehow coming out of your own hand.

Clearly, this was my favorite part of the book.

We then delve into the step-by-step process of creating a finished art piece. Not the technical details, of course. This book is for all artists, after all, and that would be a bit much. Instead, it explores the basic stages of creation. The inspiration phase. The first pass phase where we create our rough drafts and start telling ourselves our stories. The edits, and revisions. And of course, the eventual release of the work out into the world.

This is wonderful for many reasons. First, sometimes it’s hard to feel the creative magic in the later phases. Writing a rough draft is all creation. Making something from nothing. There are no rules, we’re just throwing words on the page and seeing what sticks. But editing? Revising? Grammar checking? That’s not creative.

It very much is. Honestly, I find that I’m far more creative in the second and third passes of my stories. It doesn’t feel as immense anymore. I have a better idea of what I’m trying to say, and how I utterly failed to say it the first time. So I can fix this bit here, and rewrite that part there. I know what doesn’t work, and now I can figure out what does work. And this is a process that is clearly explained in a far better way than I ever could in this book.

It’s also wonderful to have this breakdown of steps, especially as a beginner. Looking at a finished project, it’s impossible to see all the work that went into it. And if you’re starting at the other end, looking at a blank page, the thought of turning that blank page into a whole book is incredibly overwhelming.

Breaking this process down, step by step, is more manageable. And it’s something I still do. Today, I’m not writing a book. I’m just writing this scene or this chapter. I don’t need to worry about the edits or the rewrites. Or even the next chapter. All I need to worry about is writing this page right now.

One thing I will say is that Inspiring Creativity Through Magick does feel like a beginner book. If you’ve been creating art for a long time, it might feel redundant. I already knew the steps of creating, I didn’t need them drawn out for me. So there might be parts that a more experienced artist finds a bit boring.

Overall, though, this was a really useful book. I think every artist can take something useful and uplifting away from this book. Whether you’re a witch or not, it’s well worth a read.

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To write a long novel

If a book is well written, I always find it too short.

-Jane Austen

Let’s hear it for the long novel. There is just something about a big, hefty book that feels delicious.

Of course, I am a fan of Stephen King. I’ve read The Stand no less than seven times. I loved Strange The Dreamer by Laini Taylor. And Phillipa Gregory isn’t exactly short-winded either. Then of course there’s the holy grail of my childhood fantasy reading, Mists of Avalon.

A long novel is what you write when you want to explore sweeping expansive descriptions. When you want your readers to see the jeweled beetle sitting on the windowsill. In short (rim shot) writing a long novel takes a much different skill set than a short one.

Rich descriptions

If a short novel is like a sketch, a long novel is a wall-sized oil painting. The details in long novels are rich.

Consider a long novel you’ve read. I bet you feel like you could step into some of the most iconic rooms. You might be able to see the bedspreads or picture the garden bench.

Not everyone loves this sort of description, but some fans eat it up. I personally think it’s a great place to flex a more literary style of writing. This is a great place to get symbolic and poetic.

Large cast

Wheel of Time, Game of Thrones, Harry Potter. All of these have massive casts that span far beyond the main character. And most of those characters are fully formed. They have likes, dislikes, families, desires. We can see how changes in the world will impact these different characters in different ways.

This is a fantastic way to expand the world. To show different points of view that might challenge your main characters.

And yes, large books often have more than one main character.

Having the space to explore your world from multiple points of view is one of the benefits of writing a long book. It’s not an easy task. It’s difficult to juggle a large cast with their varying details and desires. So you’ll probably want to start a book bible as soon as possible.

Worldbuilding

Writing a large novel gives you space to really explore the world. If you enjoy creating different countries and communities, this is ideal for you.

Especially if you’re incorporating a large cast, you can establish as many communities as your heart desires and the story will support.

However, here’s a word of warning. Don’t get so lost in building your world that you forget to tell your story. Because the most beautifully crafted world can only hold someone’s interest so far. Remember, the story comes first. Everything else is just a stage setting.

Subplots aplenty

In a long novel, there is space to tell many stories. There can be subplots. There can be side quests. There can be love stories between secondary characters.

And that kind of feels more real, doesn’t it? There’s rarely a time when your life is just revolving around one thing. Even at the height of my husband’s stroke recovery, we were still dealing with other things. It’s never just one thing, is it?

Take my book, Station 86. While the characters are dealing with the Hollow Suits, they’re also falling in and out of love. They’re working on their careers and businesses. They’re trying to keep peace and keep food on the table. They’re running for office. They are living complex, complicated, messy, wonderful, horrible, realistic lives.

In the end, a large novel is all about space. It’s having space to stretch out and make sweeping and grand stories that are an investment of time. But that’s not going to deter people if you’ve done you’re job right. In fact, it might well be a great selling point.

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To write short fiction

Short novels and novellas are a pleasure. There’s a weight to them, paradoxically. Short fiction seems to punch us in the gut stronger than long fiction. Maybe it’s just me, but I often feel like the shorter the piece, the stronger the impact.

I’ve written before about brevity being a strong point in horror. But I have a deep respect for short works in any genre. Though I’ll admit that some genres lend themselves more to the form, you can find great short stories in any of them. Fantasy might not seem like something that can work well in a short time, but one of the best fantasy books I’ve read is This is How You Lose The Time War.

To write a short piece of fiction takes a different set of skills than writing a long piece of fiction. It’s one that not all authors have the ability to do. Stephen King comes to mind, much as I love him. Even his short stories are bloated, as far as short stories go. But if you want to write good short novels, short stories and microfiction, here are some things to keep in mind.

Every word matters

When you have a tight word count, every word matters. Elements of Style begins with the advice to omit needless words, and that is good advice. It’s also part of the fun of it, for me. When I write microfiction, it’s almost like a puzzle. How do I say all that I want to say within the word count? How do I convey all of the emotions? How do I tell the whole story?

One tip I love is using every bit of word count you can get. This means incorporating the title into the storytelling.

Short fiction has no room for fluff. No room for over-explanation. You have to cut it down to only the words that matter.

Subplots need to do double duty and be scarce

We all love a good subplot. Bits and pieces that add fun and flavor to a story but aren’t essential to a plot.

This one doesn’t exactly impact microfiction, as there’s no room for subplots there at all. But short novels will certainly have a few.

Think of it as the difference between an old-school TV episode, and the season-long stories shows have now. An episode of a show will have an A plot and a B plot. They might or might not impact each other. But a season of a modern show will have at least a handful of storylines. Maybe too many, depending on the show.

With short fiction, of course, you want to have as few subplots as you can get away with.

Maybe you have a romantic subplot that also foreshadows a backstory for the antagonist. Maybe a lost pet leads to a comedic story and gives more character development to a secondary character. Or maybe the main character. We’ll talk more about that in the next portion.

Fewer characters

In short fiction, you’re not going to have a huge cast of characters. It’s not like Wheel of Time or The Stand. Long fiction has lots of space to grow many, many characters.

Short fiction feels more intimate, and part of why is the smaller cast. Consider This is How You Lose The Time War, which only had two characters.

When you only have space for a handful of characters, it’s like the difference between attending a big party and an intimate dinner. You have more opportunity to get to know the people at that dinner. For better or worse. You’ll be more likely to learn secrets about others in that setting. Who went off their meds. Who cheated on their partner. Who has a dark secret about something hidden in their basement. Something that makes them afraid to go down there.

Something that might reach out through the shadows.

Having fewer characters to focus on means you can know those characters inside and out.

Writing a short novel, or any short piece takes practice. It’s not easier than writing a long piece. It sometimes might even take more time than the longer pieces because they require so much attention to detail. But a good piece of short fiction can be a gut punch in the very best way. And even if you don’t intend to write short forever, it’s a good skill to have.

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Is all writing art?

I’ve been busy recently. My darling husband is home, finally. And I am overjoyed. But a stroke is a serious thing and it takes a lot of work and care to recover. It’s a team effort. So it’s been a little hard for me to spend time on my writing.

We all go through these times. It’s nothing new. Right now I’m spending a lot less time writing and a lot more time cleaning and caretaking. Since my time is limited, I’m focusing on things that have actual deadlines. Sometimes, that means that all the writing I’m doing is reviews, blog posts and my daily freewriting.

That’s, um, not a lot. At least not compared to what I’m used to. And the writing I’m doing isn’t what I consider super artistic.

At least, it’s not the sort of writing most people would consider to be particularly artistic.

When you think of artistic writing, what do you think of? Everyone’s going to have a different list, but here’s mine.

Poetry

Songwriting

Short stories of all lengths

Novels and novellas

Now, I don’t write music. But I usually write all those other things. Even if I don’t always share the poetry, this is the writing that makes me feel like a real writer. A real artist!

But of course, there’s lots of writing that is, in fact, artistic writing. Let me give you a list of writing that counts as art.

All writing. All writing can be art.

No, I don’t think there’s an exception. I’ve written ad copy that is art. I’ve ghostwritten blog posts that were art. Everything I post here is art. Even my reviews of horror content on Haunted MTL are art.

If you’re creating something new, you’re making art.

If you’re writing something that gives you joy to write, you’re making art.

If you’re pouring your heart into your writing, you’re making art.

I believe that a lot of the rules some people have about art are bullshit. It tends to be quite elitist, relying on having the approval of the right people. But that has many issues. First off, art is subjective. What I consider art and what you consider art is going to be completely different. Visual artists have been poking fun at this forever. Consider the banana taped to a wall that sold for just so, so much money. I consider this art, not because the banana itself is somehow valuable. It’s art because its existence says something. Thought went into that piece. Intention went into that piece.

You get to decide what counts as art for you. Don’t worry about if anyone else agrees with you. People have also been misinterpreting art forever. Consider the heartbreaking story behind Portrait of Ross in LA, by Felix Gonzalez-Torres. If you haven’t heard of this piece, it looks different every time. It’s a pile of candy. People are invited to take a piece of candy, or even a few.

This piece represents the life and death of a man named Ross, who was the artist’s lover. He wasted away and died due to AIDS. This art piece represents the sweetness of his life wasting away. It’s beautiful and sad and meaningful. It captures the honest and raw emotion of a man who lost his person. We are gifted a glimpse of that pain in the pile of sweets that slowly diminishes. It is art.

What is art to you? To me, it’s a piece of work that’s created with joy. It’s something that is crafted with care. It’s creative work that we make to share with others, or just to take our own emotions and memories out of ourselves and into ink or paint or scraps of paper put together in a collage. Take this post. I wrote this for you, and I wrote it for me. I wrote it to share something with you that’s been making me feel better. I took care with the words I used, bringing some poetry to my prose. I put thought into it. It brought me joy to write. I hope that it brings you joy to read. My reviews of slasher flicks and gory anthology TV shows are also a joy to write. I hope that they’re a joy to read and that they help you find good stories about things that slither in the night.

Art is subjective. But don’t let yourself think that you’re not creating art. It’s a big tent, and all kinds of writing are welcome.

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Why I wrote a prequel

When I wrote Woven, I thought it would be a simple fantasy trilogy.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I at first thought it was going to be one epic novel that only encompassed the first two books. But as I wrote, I discovered more about the world and its people. This is one reason why it’s so important to finish a rough draft. The story tells itself to you, sometimes.

And the story started to breathe on its own, taking on a life I never imagined when I first started scribbling ideas out on index cards.

Despite this, I was as surprised as anyone to realize that the story needed another book.

Falling From Grace is, of course, that book.

Authors have all sorts of reasons for writing a prequel or additional content for an existing series. And it’s something that most of my favorite authors do. The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, for instance. You might have any number of reasons for wanting to write more in a world that you’ve created after your original tale is done. But I’m willing to bet the number one reason is that you felt there was more to the story. More to a side character, or a region, or even a legend told in your tale that deserved more space.

Today, I’d like to share the reasons why I wrote Falling From Grace. Maybe some of these reasons will make sense to you, and inspire you to write your prequel or additional novel.

I wrote Grace by accident

Grace came to me while I was writing a prolog for Starting Chains that I never ended up using. This just goes to show that you should never, ever throw away any of your writing. I wrote a story about a young woman tasked with brushing down and caring for a horse before a long ride. This young woman overhears Calvin’s plans to invade Septa.

But this seemed like such a small peak into her world. Who was she? What was it like living in this village with our main antagonist? What would she have to say, if I gave her space and time to say it?

I wanted to see more of the world than the nobility saw

I loved writing about Devon, Sultiana and Lenore. But, they all had one thing in common. They were nobility. Even Victor, by the time he’s a main character, is a prince.

Grace is not a queen. At least, she is only a queen for a short amount of time. She is a simple woman who stepped up and led a rebellion.

I wanted to write about witchcraft and magic and rebellion

Speaking of which, Falling From Grace deals with a lot of things I wanted to write about. And that, of course, was the real gift it gave me. I loved writing about a rebellion. I loved writing about women and men discovering witchcraft.

Falling From Grace was an indulgence of a writing experience. So, as much as I had all of these other reasons to write it, this was the most important reason. I wrote it because I wanted to write it. Because it was such a joy to write it.

I realized that I hinted at a massive story that I never told.

Finally, though, I did have a concern when I was writing the Woven series. I hinted at a war in Montelair, Victor and Grace’s home. I mentioned, however briefly, that Calvin took over the country and killed their king. Later, I talked about a little girl whose story deserved to be told.

There was a story there. There was a whole story in Montelair that I wanted to tell. Because, and I think this is the most important to take from this. If nothing else stays with you, let it be this.

Don’t write a prequel unless you feel like there’s a story that’s waiting to be told. Don’t write more because you think you’re supposed to, or because the original series sold well and you want to capitalize off of that. Write the story that is there. Write the story that is calling to be told. You, and your readers, deserve nothing less.

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My thoughts on the TikTok ban

Bonus post because I’m sad.

I didn’t talk about this for a while because, if we’re being honest, I didn’t think it would happen. And, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t hugely on my radar until this past week. The darling husband is still in rehab from his stroke. LA is on fire and that has me scared in a deep extensential way that makes me fear for the future of our planet. The worst president in the history of America is seating his fat ass behind the honored Resolute Desk on the same day we honor one of the best men America has ever known.

Then, there’s the fact that I don’t use the TikTok. I’m 38, I use Instagram like an adult. I don’t post there or consume the content. I’ve never once installed or looked at the app. The only time I see any content from TikTok is if the iconic Loey Lane is doing a video about it.

So, why do I care? Because, despite everything I just said, I care deeply. And I wish to God that it wasn’t happening.

To start, so many amazing creators I love got started on TikTok. And I will be honest, I didn’t realize how many until they all started posting about how this app gave them their start. Jordan and McKay started on TikTok. A lot of progressive pastors I admire started there. B Mo The Prince, Professor Neil and Pastor Sarah, just to name a very few. While they eventually transitioned onto other platforms, they got started on TikTok. And I wouldn’t get to enjoy their content if they hadn’t started there.

I’m glad that these amazing creators are not going away. I hope that if you have content creators you love on TikTok you follow them onto other platforms. But the truth is that not everyone who follows someone on one platform is going to follow them on other platforms. So yes, every creator involved in TikTok is going to have to rebuild. They’re going to lose money in an economy that is already struggling. And while I don’t create that sort of content, I am still a content creator. I don’t want any content creator to suffer.

I have two pieces of advice for content creators of any sort. Writers, comedians, activists, video essayists. Do not put your hopes in one app. Don’t wait until your app of choice is going away before you encourage your followers to follow you on other platforms. Do it now.

Create for multiple platforms if you can at all. I write blog posts here. I review horror content on Haunted MTL. I post silly pictures of the pets and my life and microfiction on Instagram and Threads. I also get mouthy and political on Threads. I post and repost writing and reading content on Pinterest. And, of course, my books are available on multiple platforms. (Woven is going wide soon. Stay tuned.) If one of these platforms goes down, I can rely on others until I find an alternative. Remember, I used to post a lot on Twitter and Facebook. When those turned to Hell, I left. I didn’t lose that many followers.

Platforms come and go. Do not wait to diversify where your people can find you.

Speaking of apps coming and going, do not think that your favorite platform is safe. Because it’s not. That’s the scariest thing about this incident. The reasons why TikTok was banned were nebulous at best. And if they took it down, they can take any app down.

Any site down, if I’m being honest. I worry that this has opened the floodgates. I mean, I don’t know if anyone would want to ban Pinterest, as it’s about as dangerous as your sweet auntie who collects ceramic birds. But I didn’t think the silly dancing app was all that dangerous either.

That isn’t the only way an app can die. They can get taken over by terrible and dangerous people. They can become so full of toxicity that anything beautiful or worthy gets choked out. I’m concerned about some things I’m hearing about Meta, so Threads and Instagram might be next to go.

Everything we lose gives space for something new to grow. New apps will come to take the place of TikTok and hopefully give new creatives a place to find their tribe. I want that for them. I want creatives who just lost their platforms to find their people all over again. And I don’t want anyone to take this lightly. Losing the TikTok platform is a blow to creatives, some of which will not recover. It’s a blow to freedom of speech and freedom of creativity. And I dearly hope that I’m wrong when I see this as just the first of many platform losses.

Protect your art, my friends. Vote every election. Diversify your platform. And above all, do not stop creating. Do not stop posting comedy skits, creepy horror content, microfiction, progressive Bible knowledge, new music, book reviews, pictures of your pets, cleaning tips, and witchy aesthetic content. Don’t stop putting your good stuff out there.

We need it.

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New Year, pretty much same me

I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. I think they set up an unrealistic expectation that we’re going to become completly different people and somehow be able to make different health and productivity decisions just because we’ve just cracked open a new planner.

This isn’t to say that I don’t believe we can make changes in our lives. I think we’re all imperfect works in progress and we can choose something different for ourselves every day. I’m just saying we try to do too much too fast and at an arbitrary time. You can start something new any day. For instance, I’m already 25 days into a Dulingo streak.

What I do believe in is setting SMART goals at the start of the year. Just in case you don’t remember what that acronym stands for, it’s a goal that is Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevent, and Time Bound.

I do have some slightly ambitious writing goals this year. But I should let you know off the bat that there will be no major launches. At some point Woven will be going wide, so you don’t have to rely on Amazon to get it. But other than that, you will see no novel launches from me in 2025.

I did launch four books in 2024, after all.

My writing goals for 2025 are pretty simple.

– I want to officially join SFWA.

– I want to join another local writing guild.

– I want to write the rough draft and second draft of Aurora, the final Station 86 book.

– I want to write the third and fourth drafts of a secret novel that I’m hoping to tell you more about later.

– Finally, I do want to launch Woven on all platforms.

That sounds like a lot, and maybe it is. But I think I can reasonably do all of those things. And being reasonable with my goals this year was very important.

Many of you, like me, have a word of the year. My word for 2025 is Heal. I decided on this word in early November. I realized that I’ve been putting off dealing with some heavy emotional stuff. I’m also suffering from burnout, and not taking care of my health. I needed to dedicate some time, yes a whole year, to healing myself first.

Then, on December 8th, my husband had a stroke. I don’t just mean a little stroke. I mean a brain bleed stroke. And he’s still in the hospital.

I’m sharing this for two reasons. One, if you see less of me around you know why. I’m not planning on taking any time off, but you never know. And two, to remind you of what I said in the beginning.

January first is a nice day to make changes. But so are the other 364 days of the year. Just because everyone else is making these grand plans right now doesn’t mean you have to if now isn’t the time for that shit.

You can decide next week that you want to start working out and just do it. You can decide in April that you want to start drawing and just do it. You can decide today, right now, that you want to start writing a novel, and just do it.

Or you can decide that what you’re going to do is just your best. And you know what? That’s valid too. Just do that.

However, if you’re stuck on this and you want to make some sort of positive change, may I suggest drinking more water? You’re probably dehydrated.

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Shared elements of fantasy and horror

Fantasy is scary. Fantasy is the closest genre to horror, and the one that blends most naturally with it. I believe this with my whole heart, as a speculative fiction writer. I also believe that the best of each genre borrows heavily from the other.

Some of the best horror I’ve read this year (which we’ll discuss next week) have strong fantasy elements. My best fantasy work, Woven, has strong horror elements. My best horror work, Quiet Apocalypse, has strong fantasy elements.

I think this is because some of the most often-used elements of each genre are the same. And it is those elements that I want to talk about today. Each one is a coin with two faces. We’re going to talk about how each of those faces can look.

The fey

Fairy, fair folk, the good neighbors. As a practicing witch, I won’t say anything bad about the fey. For reasons that should be perfectly obvious.

Fairies are most often seen in fantasy. They’re depicted as beautiful, cheerful dancing creatures alight on gossamer wings who like to play light-spirited games on people. They love children, honey, milk and dogs. Especially corgies.

In horror, they are often still small-winged beings. But their hands become a little longer. Their teeth and fingernails become a little sharper. Their songs are just as alluring. But are most likely going to trap you in a brightly colored world you will never escape from, in which you might become a feast or simply dance until you die. Their games and pranks become less joyful and more sinister. They love children, so much that they might steal yours away and leave a changeling in their place.

Cryptids

We all love fantasy creatures. Griffins and gargoyles. Dragons, drakes, sasquatches and any number of winged animals. There are countless joyful stories of experiencing these creatures who come into our dull human lives and spread magic just by existing.

But cryptids have a darker side. Mothman, the Dover Devil, chupacabras, yetis, and flesh pedestrians. Also, giant rats. There always seem to be a few giant rats wandering around in both genres.

Humans have forever seen creatures that no one else has seen, that may or may not have been real. These sightings have either filled us with wonder or terror, depending on the creature in question. And while those stories are often laughed off, or simply considered works of fiction, there’s something a little frightening to consider.

We thought narwhals, platypi, gorillas, and giant squids were cryptids, too. Until we didn’t.

Magic

Magic is a mainstay of fantasy. I love magic. A wave of a wand or some well-chosen Latin and the monster is defeated, the famine is over, the bitter wound is healed and the house is cleaned. I especially love tricky magic, that requires skill and knowledge. Learning an incantation, knowing the herbs and words to say. It’s like catnip for me.

But magic is a tool. It can be used to heal, create abundance, bring order, and protect. It can also be used to bring illness, famine, chaos and death. A curse can wrap itself around someone’s neck and force them to watch everything they love melt away in front of their eyes. A spell can let lose a demon or darkness. Magic can make someone bleed.

Family loss

Why do so many heroes lose their parents or parental figures? This is something I plan to explore in a blog post at some point.

Losing a parent is something most of us will experience. Unless we die first, that is. It is one of the great tragedies of our lives that the people who love us the most, the ones who love us unconditionally from before we’re even born will someday leave us.

In fantasy, this is a scar that the hero carries with them. Because they felt alone, they wanted to protect others from feeling that way. Or, their parents died saving them. This is a noble and honorable weight they bear.

In horror, things shake out a bit differently. In my opinion, it’s more honest. Losing someone you love hurts. It can make you stronger, but it can also make you weaker. It can lead to PTSD. It can take away any feeling of comfort or safety you have. Especially if you lose your parents young, you tend to feel like the world is a very dark place. Some people don’t rise to that occasion. Some just sink into this dark world. Or, they become the darkness themselves.

War

War is a big thing in the fantasy genre. An epic battle between two armies, one full of goodness and light and one full of monsters. We see elves and orcs facing off. Demons and angels. Armies of light and goodness hold back armies of darkness from destroying innocent people.

But war isn’t like that in the real world, and it sure isn’t like that in horror. Real war, horror war, reminds us that nothing is ever black and white, cut and dry. There is no such thing as a pure army. And in war, even if someone has the best intentions, dark and terrible things happen.

Young men and women, little more than teenagers, die. They die on blood-soaked grounds, adding their own blood to the mass. They die screaming for help that cannot come. They burn and bleed after causing other people they will never know to burn and bleed. They starve, get sick, get injured, get broken. Even those who come home physically whole are often broken inside. I’ve lost people to that breaking.

War is hell. There’s a reason so many ghost stories are about fallen soldiers. And while the individual people who fight and die are often noble, including those members of my bloodline who have done so, the people making the decisions at the top are all too often not. Anywhere you look in war, you can find a horror story.

I hope this post has given you something to think about, especially if you are a horror or fantasy writer. And I’d love to hear from you! Do you write a blend of horror and fantasy? Leave links to your stories below.

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