Why I Create Audiobooks for All My Books

This isn’t a promotional post. I’ve recently discovered the hidden value of audiobooks—and it has nothing to do with selling them.

Back in 2024, when I released Hemo Sapiens: Awakening, I must have read the manuscript a thousand times. I even recorded an audiobook, using an AI voice from ElevenLabs. At the time, Audible wouldn’t accept AI narration. The rules have since changed. It’s now available—though still not on Audible (and therefore not on Amazon).

I’d hired a few proofreaders and beta readers. They helped. The book improved. And yet, even after all that, I still found typos. Those bastards are insidious.

The real revelation came when I started listening.

Since I’d already created the audiobook, I began proofreading by ear. That’s when it hit me: hearing the story is nothing like reading it. Sentences that looked fine on the page fell flat aloud. So I rewrote passages—not for grammar, but for cadence, clarity, flow.

Then came the second benefit: catching mistakes. Typos. Tense slips. I favour first-person, present-tense, limited point of view—it’s immersive, intimate, synchronised with the protagonist’s thoughts. But sometimes, I slip. Listening helped catch those lapses, especially the subtle ones a skim-reading brain politely ignores.

For Sustenance, the audiobook was an afterthought. I submitted the print files, requested a proof copy, and while I waited, I rendered the audio. When the proof arrived, I listened instead of reading. I found errors. Again. Thanks to that timing, I could fix them before production. Of course, fixing the manuscript meant updating the audiobook. A pain—but worth it.

I hadn’t planned to make an audiobook for Propensity—some of the prose is too stylistic, too internal—but I did anyway, because of what I’d learned from Sustenance. And again, I found too many errors. Maybe I need better proofreaders. Or maybe this is just the fallback system now.

I’ve had Temporal Babel, a novelette, on hold for months. I won’t release it until I do the same: make an audiobook, listen, reconcile with the page.

Lesson learned.

I’ve got several more manuscripts waiting in the wings—some have been loitering there for over a year. Their release has been deprioritised for various reasons, but when they go out, they’ll have audio versions too. Not for the sake of listeners. For me.

Honestly, I should do this for my blog posts as well. But editing on the web is easier. The stakes are lower. Mistakes don’t print themselves in ink.

Propensity Excerpts

I’ve recently released a new book, Propensity. In preparation for the audiobook version, I’ve assembled some material for PDF that doesn’t convey well in an audible format – this image, for example, from Chapter 43.

This image depicts a frantic ink sketch of a woman’s face, wide-eyed and stricken, as if caught in the instant her world unravels. Her features are carved from chaos—lines scribbled in anguish, as though the act of drawing itself were a desperate grasp for meaning.

The PDF is available for free on the dedicated Propensity page.

I’ll be posting content on Propensity as well as some of my other recent and upcoming releases presently.

📡 PROPENSITY Has Launched

A note from Ridley Park on behaviour, control, and the illusion of peace.


Well, it’s out.
Propensity has officially launched.

This one’s been brewing for a while. If Sustenance asked what happens when we can’t understand each other, Propensity asks what happens when we stop needing to.

No invasion. No superintelligence. No overt dystopia. Just a device—quietly implemented—that modulates human behaviour through neurochemical cues. Less anger. Less risk. Less faith, libido, disobedience. More calm. More compliance. More… nothing.

And nobody notices.
Because the best control doesn’t look like control.


The Premise

Imagine a world where we solve violence—not through laws, treaties, or education—but by dampening the neurological signals that make people aggressive in the first place. You don’t choose peace. Peace is chosen for you, chemically. You just comply.

That’s the Propensity Device: a system designed not to control what you do, but to shift what you’re likely to do. Your odds of revolt drop. Your odds of submission rise. It’s not sedative. It’s statistical.

Free will doesn’t vanish. It just stops being statistically significant.


The Themes

The novel explores what happens when:

  • Free will is reframed as background noise
  • Consent is irrelevant because no one thinks to object
  • Violence becomes programmable—but only directionally
  • Peace is achieved without ideology, meaning, or narrative
  • Narrative itself becomes residue

There’s horror in here, but it’s not loud. It’s administrative. Institutional. Clean.

The horror of things working exactly as designed.


The Tone

Think Black Mirror but less sensational. Think Ballard after a lobotomy.

A dash of Ligotti. A flicker of DeLillo. A long stare from Atwood.
Propensity is soft dystopia—flattened, not broken.

And yes, there’s a fall. But it’s not a collapse. It’s an asymptote.
A tapering. A loss of signal fidelity. A kind of surrender.


Why Write This?

Because we’re already doing it.

Because behavioural nudge theory isn’t fiction.

Because control doesn’t need to be malicious—just implemented.

Because some of the worst horrors are quiet, polite, and empirically validated.

Because I wanted to ask: what if peace worked too well?


Now Available

You can get Propensity on Amazon and other booksellers.

If you do read it—thank you. If you don’t, that’s alright.
The system will keep humming either way.

📘 More about the book →

Ridley Park
Possibly a person. Possibly a place. Possibly both.