Contrary to all of the advice I received in my formative years:
- You can’t do that.
- It’s too dark.
- You’re too much.
- Tone it down.
- You’re too messy.
- Too honest.
I have finally come to an important realization. The only time any of my art or writing seems to touch anyone, is when I am embracing those exact things I was told to fear.
It’s been a theme my entire life. Restraint. Filter. Polish.
I was once crowned the reincarnation of Emily Post by my respective friend group. At 27.
Look, this isn’t completely self-imposed de-clawing. I’ve worked in creative fields professionally for over a decade. Palatable has always been the name of the game. Clients don’t want too funny, too self-aware, too bright, too true. Safety nets, everyone.
Unlearning that conditioning though, is a superhuman feat. Writing a book while fighting that voice in the back of my head, that little nagging one that whines in a wheedling tone:
You can’t write that! Someone might read it!
But, as I enter into draft 3 of The Last Dawn, I’ve come to a kind of peace with it. I’ve spent a year developing these characters, this world, and exploring the awful consequences of their actions.
I don’t want to write the story that makes that palatable. It simply doesn’t interest me. There are writers out there who will do that far better than I ever could. Because they are actually passionate about it. The endcap at your local bookstore has plenty to choose from where the dark will never go too dark. No one will really break.
I’m not here to knock genre fiction. I love a good beach read as much as anyone. But I realized that I don’t have any interest in writing it.
Which made my revision plan fairly straightforward honestly. I’d done something weird where I wrote a Frankenstein of a novel; three parts romantasy, one part dark fantasy. I didn’t really mean to, but that internal filtering system I had going on just pulled my punches when it should have let me double down.
I was battling ‘this is going to be unpublishable’ with ‘maybe this will have crossover appeal’ with a dusting of ‘let’s go full commercial candy’ and ended up with a novel that wasn’t really living up to my original awful vision.
I wanted to write something smart. Something toothy. Something that subverted expectations but still made you want more, like a slow-motion car wreck.
Instead of half-assing two genres, I decided to whole-ass one. Right now, as long as I remain brave enough, The Last Dawn is going to live up to my vision—and to hell with marketability. Filing off my claws wasn’t doing me any favors. If you want a happy ending, if you want redeemable anti-heroes, I’m going to recommend you move along for your own sanity.
I’m telling a messy, tragic, tale of what happens when we reach for power instead of connection. When we tell ourselves it was a necessary evil. When there is no magic kiss to break the spell. Villains are made one baby step at a time, and each of those steps feels justified.
It won’t be neat. It won’t fit into witty little hashtags, and you’ll see no Canva book graphics about this one.
Wish me luck. Or better yet, guts.—SMH
