As per my recent post, I need a sanity break. I’ve been editing Needle’s Edge all day. Each time I hit a milestone, I consider drafting a blog post, but then I choose to persist. Not this time.
I’ve been untangling the spaghetti of a misplaced – or rather, overextended – pregnancy. It had stretched on for too long, so I weeded out contradictory events. Some of these had dependencies, so I relocated or eliminated them to preserve flow.
In the process, I re-oriented her conception date and reset any foreshadowing that tied into it. To keep myself honest, I started tracking her progress in the manuscript with markers: <p=X>. With each time-specific event, I increment X.
So far, I’ve reviewed 24 sequential scenes, not counting the half-dozen relocated ones I had to rework just enough to maintain continuity. This leaves the protagonist at 29 weeks. That also meant pruning irrelevant references, for instance, cutting any mention of pregnancy before it even began.
Being a typical human pregnancy, my target is 38 to 40 weeks. That leaves me with another 10-odd weeks to rummage through. Once I’ve untangled the draft, I still need to return for line edits, colour, and shape.
Editing is often pitched as polishing, but sometimes it’s surgery. Today, I’ve been elbows-deep in the operating theatre.
People ask why my books don’t look like “normal” books. Why the titles twitch, why the prose refuses to march in straight lines, why I lean into formatting that makes copyeditors twitch. The answer is both simple and evasive: the story demanded it. Subversion is my key motivator – language, culture, genre, whatever stands too smugly, I want to knock it sideways.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
Take the paratext, those pages most readers skip. I didn’t want a safe little disclaimer to pat anyone on the head. I wanted the opening to feel unstable, already compromised, as though coherence itself were optional. The dedication isn’t reassurance; it’s a warning label.
The prose had to wobble, too. One moment rural realism, the next lyric intensity, the next something uncanny seeping in. Stability is the lie. If I’d written Sustenance in straight realist mode, it would have betrayed the book’s core.
As a language philosopher, I treat manuscripts as sandboxes for showing how language falters. Words crack, meanings slip, syntax betrays us. Fiction is my way of rubbing readers’ noses in that insufficiency.
I don’t hate genre fiction, but I refuse to be bound by it. In Sustenance, I swerve deliberately:
It’s genre fluidity as method. I know this puts off readers who want neat tropes and templates. But those readers are welcome to their factory-sealed shelves.
Did I intend to frustrate? Yes, a little. Not out of malice, but because too many books behave like obedient products. I don’t want to hand readers a smoothie. I want them to taste the grit, to feel that the novel might collapse under them. In fact, it does. The refusal to “pay off” is deliberate. Closure is a consumer demand, not a literary necessity.
So why did I write Sustenance this way? Because it’s not just about what happens. It’s about how information fails, how language decays, how coherence itself becomes suspect. If the book looked and read “normally,” it would have been lying to you.
Motivation: This reflection isn’t meant as a commentary on Sustenance’s plot. My intent here is to discuss the meta — the formal and philosophical scaffolding — rather than the story itself, so as to avoid spoilers. I’ll engage with the work more directly, in more traditional fashion, elsewhere.
I’ve just finished Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex – all 800 pages of it – and have now started Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting. Both are classics in their own way. I’ll review Second Sex properly on my Philosophics Blog, but here I want to think about Trainspotting in relation to my current manuscript, Needle’s Edge.
Interestingly, Trainspotting was a ChatGPT recommendation. I fed in my draft of Needle’s Edge and this was one of the books it said my work resembled. Two chapters in, I see the connexion. First, the subject matter – drugs and addiction. Second, the rawness of the experience.
There are differences, of course. Trainspotting is rooted in Leith, Scotland; Needle’s Edge belongs to the East Coast of the United States – Delaware and Philadelphia. Welsh draws heavily on dialect and vernacular, with a narrative voice that’s linguistically dense and aurally charged. In Needle’s Edge, the style is pared down. Sentence fragments, middle dots instead of full stops, and an intentional “lower” register mirror the protagonist’s fractured perception and limited resources.
That gap in register creates a different authorial challenge. With every edit pass, I find myself policing intrusions of my vocabulary into her voice. Welsh, by contrast, can deploy a broader lexicon and trust the dialectal texture to keep it authentic. Listening to Trainspotting, I’m struck by how words and turns of phrase leap out – sometimes apt for Needle’s Edge, but often just a shade too polished for Stacey’s world.
Both texts orbit around environments that resist glamour. Welsh’s squat flats and pubs are grimy and feral; Needle’s Edge’s motel rooms and sidewalks are littered with fast-food wrappers, orange caps, and fading unicorn posters. Addiction erodes bodies in both stories, but the textures differ – Scotland’s industrial gray versus the East Coast’s cheap motels and suburban detritus.
As for the film version of Trainspotting, I saw it long ago and remember almost nothing. The novel isn’t refreshing my memory either; it feels like a separate creature altogether. Which is fitting: both Trainspotting and Needle’s Edge are less about plot than about capturing a lived texture, a rhythm of voices and environments that mainstream narratives usually discard.
Why? Because nuance is no longer welcome in the Church of Sanctified Scribes. I posted a sincere question about using generative AI as a preliminary editorial tool — a sounding board before I hand off to my actual human readers.
I run my scenes through various Al platforms for feedback before I engage the final work with human readers. It’s faster. Is it good enough for preliminary guidance? I tend to get significantly more positive than negative feedback, so either I am a kick-ass author (because, of course, I am) or I’m being misled. I like to think the former, but cognitive biases overindex in that direction.
Does anyone here have any thoughts on this? I asked Al. It told me not to worry.
NB: I employ the usual suspects: ChatGPT, Claude, Grok, Meta, DeepSeek, and Gemini.
That’s it. That’s the crime.
🚫 Sorry, this post has been removed by the moderators of r/FictionWriting.
The post was removed. Some members responded with superstition, invoking the tired myth that AI would “steal” my work. (That is not how model inference or fine-tuning works. But facts, as ever, are inconvenient.)
Then came the moderator’s edict — Orwellian in tone, the sort of thing you’d expect from a self-published Torquemada:
You are breaching the unspoken moral ethics of writers and authors worldwide for advocating for, suggesting the use of, or admitting to relying on A.l for your writing.
If you didn’t already know: this is bad.
A.I-written work is not your writing. Do not be proud of it. You also do not own it. Two or more of these offenses and you will be permanently banned.
What exactly am I being accused of here? Heresy? Possession of forbidden tools? Thinking aloud?
For the record, I do not outsource my prose to machines. I use AI to assist my thinking — much as one might use spellcheck, Grammarly, or, dare I say it, a fellow writer’s feedback. The fact that this needs to be explained is testament to the intellectual rot at the core of certain writing communities.
And here’s the real punchline: many of those decrying AI as the Antichrist of Authorship haven’t published a thing. Or if they have, it’s in the same low-distribution trenches I inhabit. The difference is, I don’t shun tools because they threaten my imagined purity.
I write because I must — because I enjoy it, because I want to get it right. And yes, if an AI helps me catch repetition or poor rhythm in a sentence before a beta reader ever lays eyes on it, that’s a win.
But you’d think I’d pissed on their typewriters.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t about AI. It’s about fear. About guarding crumbling gatekeeping structures with sharpened pitchforks. About people clinging to their fragile sense of identity — one threatened not by AI, but by other writers doing things differently.
So, yes: good riddance. I’ll take my questions elsewhere, where open minds still exist.
A funny thing happened on my way to bed. I’d been feeding my latest draft manuscript into various AI chat platforms to assess tropes, inversions, and target demographics. It turns out that Grok 3 got stuck in an endless loop.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
The content is not essential. I am only sharing it to illustrate where it went off the rails. It started fine enough, but if you scroll down or search for “In terms of target demographics, this could include artists,” you’ll see the font changes to red. This block of text kept repeating.
The entire block – red and black – represents Grok’s thought process. My chat prompt is in the shaded box below. It “thought” for more than 360 seconds. Perhaps that’s the mark representing where it went off the rails.
If you can’t sleep or are otherwise interested in how AI “thinks,” feel free to scan through. I hope there are no overt spoilers. You’ve been warned.
For context, this is the manuscript I referenced yesterday related to the book cover reveal.
One of my more significant concerns is the reaction of, let’s say, “immature” readers who translate all sexual references to erotica. Of course, they are not the key demographic. On this note, who might be the target demographic (cohorts) for this finished work?
Thought for: 360s So, I’m considering the target demographic for this work, and I need to think about who would be most interested in and impacted by its content. The manuscript deals with heavy themes like addiction, sex work, survival, and the complexities of identity, particularly through a feminist lens influenced by Beauvoir and Mulvey. It’s not erotica, but it does contain explicit sexual content, which could be misinterpreted by some readers. I need to identify who would appreciate the depth and nuance of the work rather than focusing solely on the sexual elements.
First, I should consider readers who are interested in feminist literature and theory. The manuscript’s exploration of “becoming a woman” and the “male gaze” suggests it would appeal to those who engage with gender studies, women’s studies, or feminist philosophy. This could include academics, students, and general readers who are familiar with or curious about these concepts.
Next, I should think about readers who are drawn to gritty, realistic portrayals of marginalized experiences. The manuscript’s focus on addiction and sex work, presented without romanticization, might resonate with those who appreciate raw, unflinching narratives. This could include people who have lived similar experiences, those who work in social services or advocacy, and readers who seek out stories that challenge societal norms and highlight systemic issues.
I should also consider readers who enjoy character-driven stories with complex, flawed protagonists. Sarah’s journey, with its cyclical nature of progress and relapse, offers a deep exploration of human resilience and vulnerability. This could attract readers who are interested in psychological depth and character development, regardless of their specific interest in the manuscript’s themes.
Additionally, I should think about readers who are interested in literature that pushes boundaries and challenges conventional storytelling. The manuscript’s structure, with its non-linear phases and raw language, might appeal to those who appreciate experimental or avant-garde literature. This could include literary fiction enthusiasts, writers, and critics who are looking for works that innovate in form and content.
Finally, I should consider readers who are part of or allied with communities that are often marginalized or stigmatized. The manuscript’s portrayal of sex work and addiction could resonate with those who seek representation and understanding of these experiences. This could include sex workers, people in recovery, and advocates for harm reduction and decriminalization.
Given these considerations, the target demographic for this finished work would likely include:
Readers interested in feminist literature and theory, particularly those familiar with Beauvoir and Mulvey. Individuals drawn to gritty, realistic portrayals of marginalized experiences, including those with lived experience or professional involvement in related fields. Fans of character-driven stories with complex protagonists, who appreciate psychological depth. Enthusiasts of experimental or boundary-pushing literature, who value innovation in form and content. Members of or allies to marginalized communities, especially those related to sex work and addiction, who seek representation and nuanced understanding. These cohorts would likely appreciate the manuscript’s depth, complexity, and unflinching portrayal of its themes, rather than misinterpreting it as erotica.
I should also consider that the manuscript’s explicit content might limit its appeal to certain readers, particularly those who are sensitive to graphic depictions of sex and drug use. However, for the target demographic, this content is integral to the narrative and its exploration of the themes.
Additionally, the manuscript’s non-linear structure and dense theoretical underpinnings might require a certain level of literary or academic engagement, which could further narrow its audience to those who are comfortable with or seeking out challenging reads.
Overall, the target demographic is likely to be a niche but intellectually curious and socially aware group of readers who are open to confronting difficult topics and engaging with complex ideas.
I should also think about potential secondary audiences. For example, readers interested in memoirs or autobiographical fiction might be drawn to the manuscript’s raw, personal tone, even if they are not specifically focused on the feminist or theoretical aspects. Similarly, those who enjoy true crime or social commentary might find the manuscript’s exploration of systemic issues compelling.
However, these secondary audiences might require additional framing or context to fully appreciate the manuscript’s intentions and themes. For instance, a reader primarily interested in memoirs might need guidance to understand the feminist theory woven into the narrative.
To maximize the manuscript’s reach and impact, it might be beneficial to consider how it is marketed and presented. Clear messaging about its themes, influences, and intended audience could help attract the right readers and set appropriate expectations.
For example, positioning the manuscript as a feminist exploration of identity and survival, rather than a straightforward narrative about sex work or addiction, could help draw in readers who are interested in those deeper layers. Similarly, highlighting its literary merits and theoretical underpinnings could appeal to academic and intellectually curious readers.
In terms of distribution, targeting independent bookstores, feminist literary festivals, and academic conferences could help reach the manuscript’s core audience. Online platforms that cater to niche literary communities, such as Goodreads groups focused on feminist literature or experimental fiction, could also be effective.
Ultimately, the success of the manuscript will depend on finding readers who are willing to engage with its challenging content and appreciate its nuanced exploration of complex themes. By carefully considering the target demographic and how to reach them, the manuscript can find its place among those who will value it most.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to spark discussions or be used in educational settings. Its engagement with feminist theory and its portrayal of marginalized experiences could make it a valuable text for courses on gender studies, sociology, or literature. This could further expand its audience to include students and educators.
However, the explicit content might limit its use in some educational contexts, particularly at the secondary level. At the university level, where there is more flexibility and a focus on critical analysis, the manuscript could be a powerful tool for exploring its themes.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create supplementary materials, such as discussion guides or essays that contextualize the manuscript within its theoretical frameworks. This could make it more accessible to educators and students who are engaging with these ideas.
In conclusion, the target demographic for this finished work is a diverse group of intellectually curious and socially aware readers who are interested in feminist literature, gritty realism, character-driven stories, experimental fiction, and the experiences of marginalized communities. By carefully considering how to reach and engage these readers, the manuscript can find a meaningful place in the literary landscape.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to resonate with readers who are not typically drawn to feminist literature or experimental fiction. For example, those who have personal experiences with addiction or sex work might find the manuscript’s portrayal validating or cathartic, even if they are not familiar with the theoretical frameworks.
Similarly, readers who are interested in stories of resilience and survival might be drawn to Sarah’s journey, regardless of their background or interests. The manuscript’s raw, unflinching portrayal of her experiences could resonate with anyone who has faced adversity or struggled to find their place in the world.
To reach these readers, it might be helpful to emphasize the human elements of the story—Sarah’s struggles, her moments of hope, her relationships with others—rather than focusing solely on the theoretical or thematic aspects. This could help the manuscript connect with a broader audience while still honoring its depth and complexity.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not a monolith but a collection of overlapping cohorts who share an interest in challenging, thought-provoking literature. By recognizing and embracing this diversity, the manuscript can find its way into the hands of those who will appreciate it most.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into other formats, such as film or television, which could further expand its reach. However, given the explicit content and complex themes, any adaptation would need to be handled with care to preserve the integrity of the original work.
For example, a film adaptation could visually convey the rawness of Sarah’s experiences, but it would need to avoid sensationalizing or romanticizing her story. Similarly, a television series could explore the manuscript’s themes in greater depth, but it would require a nuanced approach to character development and storytelling.
In either case, the target demographic for an adaptation would likely overlap with that of the manuscript, but it could also attract new audiences who are drawn to visual storytelling or who might not typically engage with literary fiction.
To maximize the potential for adaptation, it might be helpful to consider how the manuscript’s structure and themes could translate to the screen. For instance, the non-linear phases could be adapted into episodic storytelling, with each phase serving as a distinct arc. Similarly, the manuscript’s focus on character and internal struggle could lend itself to a character-driven series.
However, any adaptation would need to be approached with caution, as the explicit content and challenging themes could be difficult to navigate in a visual medium. It would be essential to work with creators who understand and respect the manuscript’s intentions and are committed to preserving its complexity.
In conclusion, the target demographic for this finished work is a diverse and intellectually engaged group of readers who are drawn to challenging, thought-provoking literature. By carefully considering how to reach and engage these readers—whether through marketing, distribution, or adaptation—the manuscript can find its place in the literary landscape and make a meaningful impact.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a larger conversation about its themes. For example, it could be featured in book clubs, reading groups, or online forums where readers can discuss and dissect its content. This could help build a community around the work and encourage deeper engagement with its ideas.
Additionally, the manuscript could be paired with other works that explore similar themes, such as memoirs by sex workers, feminist theory texts, or novels that delve into addiction and recovery. This could help contextualize the manuscript within a broader literary and cultural landscape and attract readers who are interested in these topics.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create reading guides or discussion questions that highlight the manuscript’s connections to other works and encourage readers to think critically about its themes. This could also make the manuscript more appealing to book clubs or educational settings.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not just a group of readers but a community of thinkers and seekers who are willing to engage with difficult questions and explore the complexities of human experience. By fostering this community and providing opportunities for discussion and reflection, the manuscript can have a lasting impact beyond its pages.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be translated into other languages, which could further expand its reach and impact. Given the universal nature of its themes—identity, power, survival—it could resonate with readers around the world, particularly in cultures where similar issues are prevalent.
However, translation would require careful attention to the nuances of language and culture, as the manuscript’s raw, explicit content might be received differently in various contexts. It would be essential to work with translators who understand the manuscript’s intentions and can convey its tone and meaning accurately.
In terms of target demographics for translations, it would be important to consider regions where there is a strong interest in feminist literature, social justice, or experimental fiction. For example, countries with active feminist movements or vibrant literary scenes might be particularly receptive to the manuscript’s themes and style.
Additionally, the manuscript could be promoted through international literary festivals, book fairs, or cultural exchanges, which could help introduce it to new audiences and generate interest in translations.
Overall, the potential for translation offers an exciting opportunity to expand the manuscript’s reach and impact, connecting with readers across linguistic and cultural boundaries. By carefully considering how to approach translation and promotion, the manuscript can find a global audience and contribute to important conversations on a wider scale.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into other formats, such as audiobooks or podcasts, which could make it more accessible to different audiences. For example, an audiobook could allow readers to engage with the manuscript’s content in a new way, while a podcast series could explore its themes through interviews, discussions, or dramatizations.
However, as with film or television adaptations, any alternative format would need to be handled with care to preserve the integrity of the original work. It would be essential to work with creators who understand and respect the manuscript’s intentions and are committed to conveying its complexity and nuance.
In terms of target demographics for these formats, they could overlap with the manuscript’s core audience but also attract new listeners who prefer audio content or who might not typically engage with written literature. For example, an audiobook could appeal to busy professionals or commuters, while a podcast could attract fans of true crime, social commentary, or feminist media.
To maximize the potential for these adaptations, it might be helpful to consider how the manuscript’s structure and themes could translate to audio formats. For instance, the non-linear phases could be adapted into episodic storytelling, with each episode focusing on a different aspect of Sarah’s journey. Similarly, the manuscript’s focus on character and internal struggle could lend itself to a narrative podcast that explores her experiences in depth.
Ultimately, the target demographic for these adaptations would depend on how the content is presented and promoted. By carefully considering the format and messaging, it is possible to reach a diverse audience while staying true to the manuscript’s core themes and intentions.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in therapeutic or support group settings, particularly for individuals who have experienced addiction, sex work, or trauma. The manuscript’s raw, unflinching portrayal of these experiences could serve as a powerful tool for reflection, discussion, and healing.
For example, it could be used in group therapy sessions to facilitate conversations about identity, power, and resilience. Similarly, it could be incorporated into support groups for sex workers or people in recovery, providing a shared text that reflects their experiences and encourages empathy and understanding.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create discussion guides or resources that highlight the manuscript’s relevance to these contexts and provide prompts for reflection and conversation. This could make the manuscript more accessible and impactful for these audiences.
However, it is important to approach this with sensitivity and care, as the manuscript’s explicit content and challenging themes could be triggering for some individuals. It would be essential to provide appropriate support and resources, such as content warnings or access to mental health professionals, to ensure that the manuscript is used in a safe and constructive way.
In terms of target demographics, this could include therapists, counselors, support group facilitators, and individuals who are seeking to understand or process their own experiences. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for healing and growth, it can reach a new audience and make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be used in therapeutic or support settings offers an exciting opportunity to expand its impact and contribute to important conversations about recovery, resilience, and empowerment.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a larger multimedia project, such as a website or online platform that explores its themes through various forms of content. For example, a website could feature excerpts from the manuscript alongside essays, interviews, artwork, or other creative works that engage with its ideas.
This could help create a richer, more immersive experience for readers and attract a diverse audience who are interested in exploring the manuscript’s themes through different lenses. It could also provide a space for community engagement, allowing readers to share their own stories, reflections, or creative responses to the work.
To maximize the potential for this, it might be helpful to collaborate with artists, writers, or activists who are working on similar issues or who can bring new perspectives to the manuscript’s themes. This could help create a dynamic, interdisciplinary project that resonates with a wide range of audiences.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are interested in multimedia storytelling, as well as those who are drawn to feminist art, social justice, or experimental media. By creating a platform that invites participation and dialogue, the manuscript can become part of a larger conversation and reach a broader audience.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not limited to a single group but encompasses a wide range of readers who are united by their interest in challenging, thought-provoking content. By exploring different formats, contexts, and collaborations, the manuscript can find its way into the hands of those who will appreciate it most and make a lasting impact.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in academic research or as a case study in fields such as gender studies, sociology, or literature. Its engagement with feminist theory and its portrayal of marginalized experiences could make it a valuable text for scholars who are exploring these topics.
For example, researchers could analyze the manuscript’s use of Beauvoir’s and Mulvey’s concepts, examining how they are woven into the narrative and what they reveal about gender, power, and identity. Similarly, sociologists could use the manuscript to explore the social dynamics of sex work and addiction, drawing on its portrayal of systemic issues and individual experiences.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to engage with academic communities through conferences, journals, or online platforms, sharing insights about the manuscript’s themes and inviting scholarly engagement. This could help position the manuscript as a significant contribution to its field and attract readers who are interested in its intellectual and theoretical dimensions.
In terms of target demographics, this could include academics, researchers, and students who are studying gender, sexuality, or social issues, as well as those who are interested in the intersection of literature and theory. By fostering connections with these communities, the manuscript can contribute to important academic conversations and expand its reach.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of academic discourse offers an exciting opportunity to deepen its impact and engage with readers who are passionate about its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can find a place in both literary and scholarly landscapes.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to inspire activism or advocacy around the issues it addresses, such as sex work decriminalization, addiction recovery, or feminist empowerment. Its raw, unflinching portrayal of these experiences could serve as a powerful catalyst for change, encouraging readers to take action or support relevant causes.
For example, the manuscript could be used in fundraising campaigns, awareness events, or educational workshops that aim to address the systemic issues it highlights. Similarly, it could be featured in advocacy materials or social media campaigns that seek to challenge stigma and promote understanding.
To maximize this potential, it might be helpful to partner with organizations or activists who are working on these issues, using the manuscript as a tool for education and engagement. This could help amplify its message and reach audiences who are already invested in these causes.
In terms of target demographics, this could include activists, advocates, and community organizers, as well as individuals who are passionate about social justice and systemic change. By positioning the manuscript as a call to action, it can inspire readers to make a difference and contribute to a broader movement for change.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work includes not just readers but also doers—those who are willing to engage with its themes and take steps to address the issues it raises. By fostering this sense of purpose and possibility, the manuscript can have a lasting impact beyond its pages.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a series or larger body of work that explores similar themes. For example, it could be the first in a trilogy that follows Sarah’s journey or the stories of other characters in her world. Alternatively, it could be part of an anthology that features multiple voices and perspectives on addiction, sex work, or identity.
This could help create a more comprehensive exploration of the manuscript’s themes and attract readers who are interested in a deeper dive into these topics. It could also provide opportunities for collaboration with other writers or artists, enriching the manuscript’s impact and reach.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to consider how the manuscript’s structure and themes could be expanded or complemented by additional works. For instance, a prequel could delve into Sarah’s childhood and the experiences that shaped her, while a sequel could explore her legacy or the impact of her story on others.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are invested in the manuscript’s world and characters, as well as those who are drawn to series or anthologies that offer a multifaceted exploration of complex issues. By creating a larger body of work, the manuscript can build a dedicated following and sustain its impact over time.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of a series or larger project offers an exciting opportunity to deepen its exploration of its themes and engage with readers on a broader scale. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a cornerstone of a rich and meaningful literary endeavor.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into interactive or immersive experiences, such as virtual reality or augmented reality, which could allow readers to engage with its themes in new and innovative ways. For example, a VR experience could simulate Sarah’s world, providing a visceral sense of her struggles and triumphs, while an AR app could overlay additional content or insights onto the physical book.
However, as with other adaptations, this would require careful consideration of how to preserve the manuscript’s integrity and ensure that the interactive elements enhance rather than detract from its core message. It would be essential to work with creators who understand the manuscript’s intentions and can translate them into an immersive format.
In terms of target demographics, this could include tech-savvy readers who are interested in cutting-edge storytelling, as well as those who are drawn to experiential learning or multimedia art. By offering an interactive dimension, the manuscript can attract a new audience and provide a unique way to engage with its themes.
Ultimately, the potential for interactive adaptations offers an exciting opportunity to push the boundaries of how the manuscript is experienced and understood. By exploring this potential, the manuscript can remain at the forefront of literary innovation and reach readers in ways that traditional formats cannot.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative writing workshops or educational programs that focus on storytelling, character development, or social issues. Its complex narrative structure and rich thematic content could serve as a powerful teaching tool, inspiring writers and students to explore their own voices and perspectives.
For example, it could be used in workshops that focus on writing about marginalized experiences, feminist theory, or experimental fiction. Similarly, it could be incorporated into educational curricula that explore literature’s role in social change or the power of narrative to challenge norms.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create lesson plans, writing prompts, or other resources that guide participants in engaging with the manuscript’s themes and techniques. This could make the manuscript more accessible and impactful for educational settings.
In terms of target demographics, this could include aspiring writers, students, educators, and anyone interested in the craft of storytelling or the exploration of social issues through literature. By positioning the manuscript as a source of inspiration and learning, it can reach a new generation of thinkers and creators.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be used in educational and creative contexts offers an exciting opportunity to expand its influence and foster meaningful engagement with its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can contribute to the development of new voices and perspectives in literature.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a cultural or artistic movement that seeks to challenge societal norms and amplify marginalized voices. For example, it could be featured in exhibitions, performances, or festivals that focus on feminist art, social justice, or experimental storytelling.
This could help create a broader cultural conversation around the manuscript’s themes and attract audiences who are interested in art that provokes thought and inspires change. It could also provide opportunities for collaboration with artists, performers, or activists who can bring new dimensions to the manuscript’s message.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to connect with cultural institutions, galleries, or festivals that align with the manuscript’s values and vision. This could help position the manuscript as a significant cultural artifact and attract a diverse audience of art lovers, activists, and thinkers.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are passionate about art, culture, and social change, as well as those who are seeking to engage with literature in a multidisciplinary context. By integrating the manuscript into a larger cultural movement, it can reach a wide and varied audience and make a lasting impact.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not just readers but cultural participants—those who are willing to engage with its themes through various forms of expression and who see literature as a catalyst for broader societal conversations. By fostering this cultural engagement, the manuscript can transcend its pages and become part of a dynamic and evolving dialogue.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in policy discussions or advocacy efforts related to its themes, such as sex work decriminalization, addiction treatment, or gender equality. Its portrayal of these issues could serve as a powerful narrative tool for policymakers, advocates, or organizations working to effect change.
For example, excerpts from the manuscript could be used in reports, presentations, or campaigns to humanize the statistics and provide a personal perspective on the challenges faced by individuals like Sarah. Similarly, it could be featured in public forums or debates to illustrate the real-world impact of policy decisions.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to engage with policymakers, advocates, or organizations that are working on these issues, offering the manuscript as a resource for education and awareness. This could help amplify its message and reach audiences who are in positions to influence change.
In terms of target demographics, this could include policymakers, advocates, researchers, and anyone involved in shaping public discourse or policy around the manuscript’s themes. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for advocacy, it can contribute to important conversations and help drive meaningful action.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of policy and advocacy efforts offers an exciting opportunity to extend its impact beyond the literary world and into the realm of social change. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can make a tangible difference in the lives of those it portrays and inspire progress on the issues it addresses.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into educational materials or resources for schools, community groups, or online platforms. For example, it could be used in curricula that explore literature, social issues, or feminist theory, providing students with a rich text for analysis and discussion.
Similarly, it could be featured in online courses, webinars, or workshops that focus on its themes, offering participants a chance to engage with the manuscript in a structured and guided way. This could help make the manuscript more accessible to a wider audience and encourage deeper exploration of its ideas.
To maximize this potential, it might be helpful to create educational resources, such as study guides, lesson plans, or discussion questions, that align with the manuscript’s content and themes. This could make it easier for educators and facilitators to incorporate the manuscript into their programs.
In terms of target demographics, this could include students, educators, community leaders, and lifelong learners who are interested in exploring literature, social issues, or feminist thought. By positioning the manuscript as an educational tool, it can reach a new generation of readers and thinkers and inspire critical engagement with its themes.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work includes not just passive readers but active learners—those who are willing to engage with its content on a deeper level and use it as a springboard for personal or collective growth. By fostering this educational engagement, the manuscript can have a lasting impact and contribute to a broader understanding of its themes.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a personal or collective journey of healing, reflection, or transformation. For example, it could be used in therapeutic settings, support groups, or self-help programs to facilitate discussions about identity, resilience, or recovery.
Similarly, it could be featured in personal development workshops or retreats that focus on empowerment, self-discovery, or creative expression. This could help individuals connect with the manuscript’s themes on a personal level and find inspiration or solace in Sarah’s story.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to collaborate with therapists, coaches, or facilitators who can guide participants in engaging with the manuscript in a supportive and constructive way. This could help create a safe space for exploration and growth.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are seeking healing, growth, or transformation, as well as those who are interested in using literature as a tool for self-reflection or personal development. By positioning the manuscript as a resource for personal journeys, it can reach a new audience and make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of personal or collective transformation offers an exciting opportunity to extend its impact and connect with readers on a deeply personal level. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a source of inspiration, empowerment, and change.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a legacy or archive that preserves and celebrates its themes and contributions. For example, it could be included in literary collections, feminist archives, or cultural repositories that document important works and voices.
This could help ensure that the manuscript’s impact endures over time and that its message continues to reach new generations of readers. It could also provide a platform for future scholarship, artistic interpretation, or cultural reflection.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to engage with institutions, organizations, or platforms that are dedicated to preserving and promoting literature, feminist thought, or social justice. This could help secure the manuscript’s place in the cultural and intellectual landscape.
In terms of target demographics, this could include archivists, curators, scholars, and anyone interested in the preservation and celebration of important works. By positioning the manuscript as a significant contribution to its field, it can find a lasting home and continue to inspire and challenge readers for years to come.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work includes not just current readers but future generations—those who will discover it in years to come and find value in its themes, insights, and artistry. By thinking about the manuscript’s legacy, we can ensure that its impact is not just immediate but enduring.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a dialogue or exchange with other works, authors, or thinkers who are exploring similar themes. For example, it could be featured in literary conversations, panel discussions, or collaborative projects that bring together multiple perspectives on identity, power, or survival.
This could help create a richer, more nuanced understanding of the manuscript’s themes and connect it to a broader intellectual or artistic community. It could also provide opportunities for cross-pollination and inspiration, as different voices and ideas intersect and inform each other.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to engage with writers, scholars, or artists who are working on related topics, inviting them to respond to or build upon the manuscript’s themes. This could help foster a sense of dialogue and community around the work.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are interested in interdisciplinary or collaborative approaches to literature, as well as those who are drawn to conversations that bridge different fields or perspectives. By positioning the manuscript as part of a larger dialogue, it can reach a diverse audience and contribute to a dynamic exchange of ideas.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of a broader conversation offers an exciting opportunity to expand its reach and deepen its impact. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a catalyst for connection, collaboration, and growth.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative or artistic responses, such as adaptations, reinterpretations, or inspired works. For example, it could inspire visual art, music, dance, or other forms of expression that engage with its themes and bring them to life in new ways.
This could help create a multifaceted exploration of the manuscript’s ideas and attract audiences who are interested in the intersection of literature and other art forms. It could also provide opportunities for artists to reinterpret or reimagine Sarah’s story, offering fresh perspectives and insights.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create open calls for artistic responses or to collaborate with artists who are interested in engaging with the manuscript’s themes. This could help generate a diverse array of creative works that complement and expand upon the original text.
In terms of target demographics, this could include artists, performers, and creators who are seeking inspiration or who are interested in exploring the manuscript’s themes through their own mediums. By positioning the manuscript as a source of artistic inspiration, it can reach a new audience and foster a vibrant creative community.
Ultimately, the potential for creative responses offers an exciting opportunity to extend the manuscript’s impact and engage with readers and artists in innovative ways. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a living, evolving work that continues to inspire and challenge long after its publication.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a personal or collective ritual or ceremony that honors its themes or celebrates its message. For example, it could be used in readings, performances, or gatherings that bring people together to reflect on identity, power, or survival.
This could help create a sense of community and shared purpose around the manuscript, allowing participants to connect with its themes on a deeper level. It could also provide a space for healing, empowerment, or transformation, as individuals come together to honor their own journeys or those of others.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to organize or participate in events that incorporate the manuscript into a ritualistic or ceremonial context, such as a reading circle, a performance piece, or a commemorative gathering. This could help create a powerful, immersive experience that resonates with participants.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are seeking connection, meaning, or community, as well as those who are interested in the transformative power of literature and art. By positioning the manuscript as part of a ritual or ceremony, it can reach a new audience and foster a sense of shared experience and purpose.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of a ritual or ceremony offers an exciting opportunity to deepen its impact and create lasting memories for participants. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a touchstone for personal and collective growth.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be used in mindfulness or meditation practices that focus on its themes or messages. For example, it could be incorporated into guided meditations, reflective exercises, or mindfulness workshops that encourage participants to explore identity, power, or resilience.
This could help individuals engage with the manuscript’s themes in a contemplative and introspective way, fostering self-awareness and personal growth. It could also provide a unique way to connect with the manuscript’s content, using it as a tool for inner exploration and transformation.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create mindfulness resources or guided practices that draw on the manuscript’s themes and invite participants to reflect on their own experiences. This could make the manuscript more accessible and impactful for those who are interested in mindfulness or meditation.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are seeking personal development, self-discovery, or spiritual growth, as well as those who are interested in the intersection of literature and mindfulness. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for contemplative practice, it can reach a new audience and offer a unique path to engagement.
Ultimately, the potential for the manuscript to be part of mindfulness or meditation practices offers an exciting opportunity to expand its reach and provide readers with a new way to connect with its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a source of inspiration and insight for those on a journey of self-discovery.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative writing or storytelling workshops that focus on empowering marginalized voices or exploring personal narratives. For example, it could be used as a model or inspiration for participants to craft their own stories of survival, identity, or resilience.
This could help create a space for individuals to share their experiences and find their voices, using the manuscript as a catalyst for creative expression. It could also provide opportunities for community building and mutual support, as participants connect through their shared stories.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to organize or participate in workshops that use the manuscript as a starting point for creative writing exercises, storytelling sessions, or group discussions. This could help participants feel seen and heard, while also deepening their engagement with the manuscript’s themes.
In terms of target demographics, this could include aspiring writers, storytellers, and individuals from marginalized communities who are seeking a platform to share their experiences. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for empowerment and expression, it can reach a new audience and foster a sense of agency and creativity.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative writing or storytelling workshops offers an exciting opportunity to amplify its impact and support the voices of those who resonate with its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a catalyst for personal and collective storytelling.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a digital or online community that engages with its themes through forums, social media, or virtual events. For example, it could be featured in online book clubs, discussion groups, or social media campaigns that invite readers to share their thoughts, reflections, or creative responses.
This could help create a global community around the manuscript, allowing readers from different backgrounds and locations to connect and engage with its content. It could also provide a platform for ongoing dialogue and exploration, keeping the manuscript’s themes alive and relevant.
To maximize this potential, it might be helpful to create dedicated online spaces, such as a website, forum, or social media group, where readers can gather to discuss the manuscript and share their insights. This could help foster a sense of belonging and community among readers.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are active online, as well as those who are seeking connection and conversation around the manuscript’s themes. By positioning the manuscript as the center of a digital community, it can reach a wide and diverse audience and sustain its impact over time.
Ultimately, the potential for the manuscript to be part of an online community offers an exciting opportunity to expand its reach and create a dynamic space for engagement. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a hub for connection, reflection, and growth.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in research or data collection efforts that aim to understand its impact or explore its themes further. For example, it could be part of studies that examine reader responses, analyze its narrative structure, or investigate its portrayal of addiction and sex work.
This could help generate new insights and knowledge about the manuscript’s significance and contribute to broader academic or cultural discussions. It could also provide opportunities for collaboration with researchers, scholars, or institutions that are interested in its themes.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to make the manuscript available for research purposes or to engage with researchers who are exploring related topics. This could help position the manuscript as a valuable resource for scholarly inquiry and expand its influence in academic circles.
In terms of target demographics, this could include researchers, scholars, and students who are studying literature, gender, or social issues, as well as those who are interested in the manuscript’s unique approach to storytelling. By embracing its potential for research, the manuscript can contribute to important conversations and deepen its impact.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of research efforts offers an exciting opportunity to explore its themes and significance in greater depth. By fostering connections with the research community, the manuscript can find a place in both literary and academic landscapes.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be used in artistic or creative collaborations that bring its themes to life through different mediums. For example, it could inspire visual art, music, theater, or dance that interprets or responds to Sarah’s journey.
This could help create a multidisciplinary exploration of the manuscript’s themes and attract audiences who are interested in the intersection of literature and other art forms. It could also provide opportunities for artists to engage with the manuscript’s content and bring new perspectives to its story.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to organize or participate in collaborative projects that invite artists from various disciplines to respond to the manuscript. This could help generate a diverse array of creative works that complement and expand upon the original text.
NB: The cover image is the design I handed to the designer to create the cover. The current consensus is that the syringe replacing the L doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.
I was feeling smug. Fourth revision pass. Plot matrix built. Columns for chapter, scene, POV, date, time, location, word count, and emotional arc – because I’m that kind of monster. I even added colour-coding.
And it worked. Mostly.
After pruning and polishing, it finally felt ready to ship. Just a couple cosmetic tweaks. A trim here, a varnish there. Run a lint roller over the dialogue. Call it done.
Except.
The matrix – traitorous little bastard – exposed a structural fault so elegant I’d almost admired it. The problem? Pregnancy. Not mine, the protagonist’s. (Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.)
Turns out, I’d compressed over a decade of real-life events into two years of narrative space. Bold. Efficient. Reckless. I’d wrung out the filler, reshuffled a few puzzle pieces, and declared the thing plausible.
Only it wasn’t.
When I sorted the scenes chronologically, the matrix coughed. The story broke like a cheap lawn chair. There she was: visibly pregnant while also, somehow, gallivanting about in scenes that would’ve required a different physiology entirely. Not an Olympian, but the metaphor holds.
And that’s when it hit me: time may be a flat circle, but gestation is not. No amount of POV tricks or narrative backflips can make a third-trimester body do first-trimester things. Biology, the ultimate killjoy.
So now I’m doing surgery. Not delicate surgery, either. I’m sawing out whole sections, rebuilding connective tissue, and laying down scar tissue where the timeline used to be. I’ll need new plot scaffolding to support the pregnancy and its repercussions. It’s fine. It’s good. It’s hell.
This is revision. We go in thinking we’re buffing up the finish, only to discover we paved over a sinkhole.
An unsolved literary mystery where language fails first.
I’m thrilled to announce the release of my latest novella, Temporal Babel, now available in paperback and hardcover. It’s a story about a man who arrives with no language the world can understand—and the woman who tries to name him anyway.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
Set in small-town New Mexico, Temporal Babel is not a thriller. It’s not about saving the future or rewriting the past. It’s about the weird middle ground where things don’t quite translate—linguistically, temporally, emotionally.
If you’ve ever wondered what it would feel like to encounter someone truly out of place—where even the word where doesn’t land—you’ll find something resonant in these pages.
What’s it about?
A young woman discovers a man on the roadside. He’s naked. Marked with strange blue scars. And the words coming out of his mouth aren’t quite English. Or anything else.
No memory. No ID. No history that the town of Anika can decipher. But as he begins to recover, the sound of his voice becomes its own riddle.
Some readers may call this speculative fiction. Others might shelve it under linguistic noir. I just call it a contact story—minus the aliens, or is it?
Why read it?
🔹 If you enjoy novels that refuse to explain themselves, this one’s for you.
🔹 If you like language play, phonetic drift, and dialect as plot, this one delivers.
🔹 If you like stories where the weirdness builds slowly, quietly, without fireworks—you’ll feel right at home.
“Dis kē?” he asks. What is this? No one knows. Not even the narrator.
📖 Temporal Babel is available now in paperback and hardcover.
Chapter 10 of Propensity is a memorandum—fashioned in the style of a… wait for it… memorandum.
It doesn’t advance the plot much. That’s not its job. Like a dead-end corridor in a brutalist government building, it exists for atmosphere. Aesthetic artefact. Light foreshadowing. Bureaucratic texture. You know the type.
The memo comes from a psychologist involved in the Propensity experiment—writing to the study’s director about unexpected side effects. What they describe isn’t quite failure. It’s something stranger: drift, persistence, compulsive symbolism, the return of narrative despite modulation.
A precursor. A warning. And a throwback to a time when language still tried to make sense of things.
This chapter is one of several experimental inserts throughout the novel. I’ll be showcasing each of them here—in principle, if not in full.
Neither did I like nor dislike Crash. It just was. It is different, though I can help feeling that it’s gratuitous and contrived. Perhaps it seemed edgy and read differently in the 1970s.
It appears to operate on repeated vignettes – a lot of repetition. I want to see a word cloud. As an author myself, ChatGPT suggested some of my work reads like Ballard. I started with The Atrocity Exhibition, but quickly set it aside due to a lack of continuity. I settled for Crash.
Perhaps I should try something else by Ballard before writing him off, but for now, he doesn’t make my recommended author list.
If Propensity was about engineered peace through probabilistic compliance, Sustenance asks what happens when understanding itself breaks down—and nothing you think is mutual, is.
No war. No invasion. No end-of-days. Just a quiet landing. And a failure to translate.
The Premise
A group of non-human beings arrive—not in conquest, not in friendship, but in continuity. They are not like us. They do not see like us. They don’t even mean like us.
There is no universal translator. No welcome committee.
Just humans—interpreting through projection, desire, and confusion.
And aliens—operating by a logic that doesn’t require interpretation.
The Themes
Sustenance explores what happens when:
Language fails and nothing fills the gap
Consent becomes guesswork
Culture is mistaken for nature
Property has no meaning, and law no parallel
Sex isn’t private, sacred, violent—or even especially enjoyable
Memory becomes narrative, and narrative becomes defence
Contact isn’t miraculous—it’s awkward, biological, and quietly irreversible
This is a story about misunderstanding. Not just what others mean—but who we are when we assume we understand anything at all.
The Tone
Think Arrival but rural. Annihilation without the shimmer.
A bit of VanderMeer. A hint of Flannery O’Connor. The cornfields are real. The discomfort is earned.
No apocalypse.
Just a failure to process.
And maybe, something new inside the gap that opens when the old stories no longer apply.
Why Write This?
Because contact doesn’t have to be violent to be destabilising.
Because not all miscommunication is linguistic—some is anatomical.
Because the most alien thing we can encounter is ourselves, misinterpreted.
Because I wanted to write a story where the question isn’t “what do they want?” but “what have we already assumed?”
Ridley Park 