Thrilling Tales Hub

Writing for me always starts with the idea—an idea that won’t let go. Usually it begins with a what if. What if a secret experiment could rewrite human DNA? What if something ancient was hidden beneath sacred ground? Once that seed takes hold, the real work begins.

My process is a mix of structure and chaos. I do a lot of thinking before I write—building timelines, sketching out characters, figuring out the bones of the story. I want a tight, pressing arc that keeps the protagonists on their heels. The kind of story where the clock is always ticking and every chapter pulls you forward. That pacing matters to me. It has to feel real. Urgent. Controlled.

Every book I write has mystery at its core. Sometimes there’s a crime. But always—there’s a question that demands an answer. Who’s hiding the truth? What’s really going on beneath the surface? Around that core, I layer conspiracies—hidden factions, powerful players, buried agendas. I like stories where the truth is dangerous and peeling it back changes everything.

When it’s finally time to write, I don’t hold back. I get the story out as fast as I can—raw, messy, sometimes inconsistent. But it’s there. And then the real work starts: edit, edit, edit. Tighten the flow. Clarify the motives. Sharpen the dialogue. Shape the rhythm of each scene so it hits right.

That’s the part I’ve grown to love—refining the chaos. Watching the world I built become something coherent, something alive. The Forbidden Strain came together just like that—a layered thriller with roots in science, myth, and morality.

If you’re a writer, you probably know the feeling: the rush of getting it down, and the reckoning of making it better.