Daley Downing's Blog
December 21, 2025
Long Overdue Reviews!
Happy holidays! Or…if you’re not feeling it (neither am I!), happy NFL-playoff-qualifying-games weekend!
I realized I probably won’t post again before we get deep into festive and seasonal real life stuff, and that this year I haven’t really done a lot of, er, actual reviews (gasp! isn’t this primarily a reviewer’s blog?!), so, time to remedy that!
Don’t Let the Forest In by CG Drews
Sooo…errr…yeah, I finished this over a year ago. Ahem. And I am personally acquainted with the author. A-hem. My profound apologies in that regard! This title took the YA horror/dark academia scene by storm, and has been a big hit for this feral child (yes, I can refer to the author this way and {probably} not get in trouble). Drews was a long-time fixture on the blogging scene (back when blogging was big), and in 2019 their YA contemporary novel The Boy Who Steals Houses stole the hearts of readers. In 2024, their new release, Don’t Let the Forest In, sprouted evil vines that dug into our souls and made us terrified to go near a boarding school, or a tree, again.
This is the tale of Andrew, a very introverted, socially awkward student at a prep school in suburban Virginia, and his roommate, Thomas…whose parents are brutally murdered right before the start of the new school year. (Yup, no punches pulled, and we’re into the thick of it right away.) Thomas and Andrew had previously been collaborating on a sort of dark fairytale, Andrew writing and Thomas illustrating (some of these illustrations are included in the special edition of the book I got, and they are appropriately creepy and fascinating). It turns out that Thomas’ drawings appear to be coming to life, and lurching out of the forest behind the school, and attacking people — possibly including Thomas’ parents, and then teachers and students. As the mystery deepens and the terror builds, Andrew begins to realize whatever dark force is at work in the woods may be out of their control and unable to be defeated by the increasingly worried (and targeted) boys.
This story is not for the faint of heart; in fact, as much as I am blown away by Drews’ masterful atmosphere and weaving of immersive prose, I wouldn’t just recommend it to anybody. If you enjoy unreliable narrators, merciless plot twists, and can survive a tremendously messy ending, then you’ve found your book. XD But otherwise, be forewarned…
(Seriously, though, Don’t Let the Forest In is a great horror novel.)
Stephen King’s On Writing
Yes, last year (yupppp, I knowwww) I finally read what’s considered one of the premiere modern guides for authors, after hearing about it for quite a while. This combination memoir-trade/craft advice was initially published early in the 21st century, and has since been reprinted in a couple of newer, updated editions; I read the most recent update, released in 2021, I believe.
While I am, of course, familiar with Mr. King (I mean, I don’t live under a rock), I wouldn’t call myself a fan; I appreciate his ability to connect so deeply with his readers, across several decades, no less, and I have enjoyed a few of his works. But, I saw no reason to spend time on his advice for writers; I mean, yeah, seeing as he’s such a seasoned professional in the industry, I certainly wasn’t knocking On Writing existing; just, what would be its significance for me?
Then, last summer, when I was using a gift card to acquire some (bookish) items, and needed just a little more to secure free shipping, I saw a more recent King publication come up in the sidebar, and remembered the many praises sung of On Writing. Hence, I read it, after all. Spoiler: I liked it.
The poignant and heartwarming tone as King reminisces how he met his wife and their early years, when their kids were young and he was struggling to sell anything; the professor-y (but in a good way) feel as he delivers his advice (from textbooks and from trade life) on honing a craft that, hopefully, will become an art; the inclusion in the latest edition of an interview with one of his sons (who’s also an author), showing some insight into how the kids perceive his methods and having a dad who, to others, is A Famous Writer; it’s all wonderful and interesting and informative and hope-building. I’m not a trad pub, but I didn’t feel put off or marginalized as an indie; so much of what King suggests we do, or relates has worked for him, can totally apply to all sorts of creatives. It does deserve the hype.
Deathless by Stephen Todd and Anthony LaFauci
Next up is an indie comic series (they’re up to issue 3 now) by my boys at the We Have Issues podcast. I was lucky enough to get in on the Kickstarter pack that included all 3 and the chance for special requests (mine was, if possible, a signature from Todd’s pet husky; it wasn’t very possible, unfortunately, XD, as the doggo in question objected to using ink — there’s one half of a paw print on the back of one comic, though).
Anyway, Deathless is the story of Douglas, a very ordinary guy who has a very boring job, and is just plodding along in his mundane life, when some of his friends awaken an ancient evil being and absorb its supernatural powers. The spirit of the hero who in the past fought this evil is also awakened, and lands in Douglas, who is completely unprepared for this, and struggles to keep up as he’s thrust into medieval knight mode.
In typical Todd-LaFauci fashion, Deathless mixes danger and action with humor and those moments that really make you sit and blink at the wall for a bit. On the surface, yes, it’s a tale of an ancient evil and a misplaced knight and an unwilling chosen one; but it’s also, at its core, about friendship, adulting, navigating change, and finding yourself and what’s worth fighting for.
The Adventure Zone by the McElroy family
This is a series of graphic novels based on a podcast by a bunch of siblings and one of their parents, in which they ran a D&D style campaign with original characters. Catching up on the GN has been one of my favorite things this year. I’d never heard of the podcast, but I know enough about TTRPG that I hoped the subject matter would prove engaging, and it certainly does. Following the adventures of Magnus (human warrior), Taako (elf wizard), and Merle (dwarf cleric) as they explore their skills and level up, taking on increasingly more dangerous and complex missions, is just what this moth needed right now.
KPop Demon Hunters
This movie was an outstanding surprise. I had low expectations (it’s a Netflix original, after all, and we all know how that can go), and initially turned it on just to see how bad it might be (ha!). Within 20 minutes, I was glued to the screen and totally invested in the outcome. You don’t have to be into K pop (believe me, I am not) or know much about anime tropes. The graphics and effects are amazingly beautiful, the songs true pop anthems, the premise feels so authentic being played out by an all Korean-American voice cast, and I WANT THE CAT AND THE BIRD. Ahem. THAT ENDING…the message of how the bonds we forge can be more powerful than we ever imagined, feels so right in a time of audiences being worn down by insta-love wins and The Hero Must Go It Alone. Despite the embarrassment it doubtlessly has heaped on our kids, I am proud to be among the moms and dads singing our lungs out when Golden comes on the radio.
Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein
Definitely not a cheesy monster flick, this version of Mary Shelley’s classic is pretty authentic to the original text, and at points pretty gross (consider what the creature was actually made of, folks). If you prefer the cheese of lightning strikes, neck bolts, and Mr. Big Shoe Grunts While Shuffling, you may want to avoid Del Toro’s newest. This director’s work is traditionally hit or miss for me (I do not do most horror, especially not intense gore and the more bizarre, which he is occasionally known for), but I love his Hellboy films and the wonderful animation The Book of Life. And this Frankenstein…is a masterpiece. It so captures the intended discussion on whether Victor Frankenstein is playing God, what moral responsibilities and dilemmas could arise, and how, or if, redemption might occur, and what that — as well as justice for those sinned against — looks like. Del Toro insisted on as little CG as possible, had 90% of the sets and props constructed, and the difference matters — everything looks so cinematically satisfying, and I greatly appreciate his commitment to art over profit.
Wednesday (Season 2)
I…have problems with this. I like the way the main actors seem to have settled into their roles; I honestly love Catherine Zeta-Jones as Morticia, and having Billie Piper as a season regular and Lady Gaga in her own scene was enjoyable. However. There are lots of things about this season that…simply don’t work. YouTuber Alex Meyers hit the nail on the head about the less-than-impressive scripts and plot holes, but what wore me down was the repetitive feel to every episode. All the things from season 1 that engaged viewers — Wednesday has visions, there’s a Hyde, Enid isn’t a typical werewolf, there are sirens, here’s some teen angst but supernatural, Wednesday hates everybody, nothing is what it seems… it all feels…recycled. Morticia and Gomez are keeping secrets from their kids. Uncle Fester’s appearance is like an afterthought. Enid’s twist, and Thing’s, were not necessary, in my opinion. Again, where be Lurch? Why don’t we learn anything new about the various creature groups, or dig deeper into the lore of Morticia’s family? Like, hello, show runners, you got Lady Gaga to portray an ancestor of Wednesday’s maternal lineage, and…just let it fade away?! And after the season finale, the impression is left that any further episodes will be the same rinse and repeat formula that we’ve already seen. That I am not in the mood for.
Only Murders in the Building
Thanks to Muffin wanting to watch a few things on Disney Plus, I occasionally pay for a month of the Disney/Hulu bundle. This also meant that I was able to watch Only Murders in the Building, which had been (for budget-conscious me) a sort of mythical Hulu original that lots of people gushed about, but was not available for my household. Even having to sit through the ads (to get the cheapest option) was well worth it to indulge in this absolutely charming mystery. The chemistry between the three leads is undeniable; the dynamic of the parental-adult child feel between Charles and Oliver and Mabel is so heartwarming. Some of the guest stars haven’t been my favorites (Meryl Streep is always hit or mess for me), but some of them have (Tina Fey and Jane Lynch were delightful). I like that each season focuses on a different mystery, that there are plenty of red herrings to keep us guessing along with the characters, and that there’s growth for each of the leads. This is a show unafraid of messing with the typical (tired) formula for amateur detectives, and it’s refreshing. Yes, there are certain things we want to see every season; but there are always new things, too, so we’ll be comfortable but not get bored. Thank God.
All right, there we are! Cheers to making it to the end of my ramblings! Have a great holiday season, everyone!
December 18, 2025
The Importance of Using Your Head
I may be about to get in a lot of trouble. Well, never really stopped me before, has it? And since some things need to be said, well…here we go.
I feel like people don’t know how to use their heads anymore.
Now’s the time to pull a Dave Barry moment, and follow up this comment with, “What I’m saying is: People are getting stupider. Just kidding! I didn’t mean that!”, when, in fact, that is exactly what he meant.
I’m not talking about lack of available information, nor the absence of resources to access it. (The internet has — seriously — become an excellent tool in that regard.) I’m referring to the apparent inability of a great amount of the human population to apply active thinking skills.
Example A: Why are so many people shitty drivers these days? They seem so focused on just following the rules they were taught in high school, so that they don’t get a ticket, that they actually cause accidents by not being able to switch gears in a sudden, unanticipated, or emergency situation that requires them temporarily suspending that mindset. The other day, I had to stop in my tracks while trying to park (and get out of the way of other traffic) because a driver had just halted their vehicle in the middle of the lot, preventing many other folks from backing out or pulling around them. No rhyme or reason to it that I could see. After I (almost frantically) yanked my steering wheel to position my car over to the edge of the lot, the other driver drove past me like nothing was wrong. Just…WHAT?!?!
The only thing I could think of was that this person was about to leave the lot when they saw me entering, and…instead of being able to think, “Oh, okay, they’re coming in from that lane, so I should go this way”…they literally just stopped. Again, actually creating the very sort of scenario that could have led to unnecessary problems.
Example B: Everybody knows I’m no fan of current BookTok trends ruining the publishing market. But there are other problems tied to the rise of books becoming a highly profitable (above all else) industry. One is that reading comprehension is at an astounding low (at least in this country). I directly blame the advertisers throwing insane amounts of cash at 20-something bimbos (yup, and you can’t change my mind) to go on camera and gush, “Omg, you guys, this book was sooo good!” The actual readers — who genuinely enjoy this hobby, and will often slam this marketing tactic, even to the point of boycotting titles mentioned in this way — are starting to be very vocal about how obvious it is influencers either don’t read those books, or did not understand them.
I’m going to pick on Haley Pham here. I really enjoy Ryan Trahan’s (her husband’s) YouTube videos, so I tried watching her book reviews. I made it through about a dozen of them before I realized…this girl has the reading comprehension ability of a squirrel. She’d often say there were plot points or character motivations she couldn’t follow in certain books (generally, anything more complex than a contemporary rom-com), but she could never explain why these nuances escaped her. When you read or watch negative reviews that concretely state, “The character seemed to change their mind halfway through, without the author giving a reason for them doing it,” or, “The plot dragged until page 200, then there were impossible twists thrown in just to make it feel exciting,” that gives confidence the reader knows how to analyze what’s on the surface of the text.
(In this instance, Haley Pham is an excellent exhibit of why she’s a bad pick to be a book influencer: It turns out she’s a high school dropout, whose aim became making it big in social media, and she never really read much for enjoyment before marrying someone with millions of subscribers and having the opportunity to build her own channel on status alone. Ahem. A-hem. The ethical issues aside, it’s pretty clear no one who truly values reading as enrichment should take any recommendations from this woman.)
Anyway, here’s why reading comprehension is so important: Whether you ever pick up a single novel in your lifetime, you will need to understand what you read in legal documents, job-related paperwork, buying a car, a house, getting an extended warranty on your toaster, EVERYTHING that you might be accountable for throughout your life that is communicated to you through writing. My child’s co-parent struggles with this skill, and it very nearly got them into very hot water at work recently, because they signed a form that should not have been signed without first obtaining legal advice. Thank God I do have knowledge in such things, and I know how to help as this situation proceeds. But, bloody hell, what a near disaster.
Example C: In November I had to have surgery. (I’m fine, by the way.) The nurse at check-in was so intent on following procedure that she weighed me with my coat, boots, and bag, still on, which meant the number on my chart was easily 10 pounds higher than my actual weight — and that meant I was probably given too much anesthesia. It took me four days to fully come out from under the effects of sedation given to last an hour in the operating room. Either wait for me to get into a hospital gown before putting me on the scale, or do some quick math to allow for the fact fabric holds weight, too.
But too many people — even professional, well-trained people — only do what the textbook says. They’re too afraid of getting in trouble to risk doing the right thing for their customer/client/patient. I felt so blessed that the first available surgeon seemed very free-thinking from the first consultation; she reminded me of the teachers that used to say, “The only ‘dumb’ question is the one you don’t ask.” I was well-informed on how the operation would be performed, what side effects were considered normal, and what would be deemed an emergency, and what I should do about that. Someone with an MD after their name needs to be thinking on their feet.
That showed itself again when the anesthesiologist came into my pre-op space; he could tell that my anxiety and my small-boned body structure was possibly going to constrict my airways, so he did away with the (usual) idea of intubation (something that was definitely concerning me, because the last time I had surgery it tore my throat up and was very painful). I simply went through this operation with someone monitoring the oxygen mask secured over my nose and mouth. Much better.
You might be thinking, well, yes, that shows someone who’s really good and practiced at their job; but does that directly tie in with intelligence?
Yes, it does. It’s because this doctor was smart enough not just in training and experience but also in terms of empathy (which is, studies strongly indicate, a learned skill, not an innate one) to figure out what I needed without me having to ask for it. That, as a patient, was invaluable.
So, if people’s IQ is affecting their EQ…what does that mean for the future of society?
And…is there any way to regain the strides in IQ, and EQ, that civilization has made in recent decades?
I can’t help thinking that technology isn’t the problem here; AI becoming the default for processing our bill payments and ordering takeout isn’t making us less compassionate.
Somehow, in the 21st century, we’ve reverted to teaching people it’s perfectly acceptable to not care about each other, to treat those you disagree with like trash, to put your plans and objectives only into making money and being seen as successful (instead of, you know, finding a cure for all those shitty diseases out there, or something).
And, I’ll stand by it, my guess is that if people were using their heads more, they’d probably end up using their hearts more, too.
December 4, 2025
Everything’s Changing, and I Don’t Like It: Part 2
Given the state of, well *gestures vaguely at everything* presently, I’m sure everyone will grasp this sentiment. And I’m not just engaging in a huge session of whine; there’s enough of that out there right now. My goal with this post is to, in spite of all the natural grumblyness, to find the sense of comradery.
One of the biggest problems we’re facing as a community — specifically the bookish community, in this instance — is division and in-fighting over small, subjective matters (that never used to be a big deal!). How we’ve come this far — from being a bunch of nerds who collected pretty notebooks and checked the same titles out of the library 5 times, to people with our own websites and YouTube channels and thousands of followers on Instagram — was not by tearing each other apart over prologues. We bonded together about a shared love of the written word and storytelling, and introduced new friends to genres and formats and tropes we’d adored for years, and sometimes we had to agree to disagree, but the joint passion was still there.
That’s what we need to rediscover, and reapply.
Several years ago, when I first started in the blogisphere, there was…well, for one, there was such a thing as the blogisphere. A community of hundreds of hobbyist writers — and some of us with dreams to go bigger — that enjoyed discussing why we chose to read something and what we liked about it. The comments were so engaged, with the same, and different, opinions, and many of us learned about authors that would become our next favorite. Again, the sense of we’re all in this together.
Bit by bit, though, these blogs dropped off; some people told everyone they were quitting the pursuit, for a variety of reasons; but most just vanished, their websites either eventually being absorbed into the void, or still existing on a server’s archives somewhere, like a WordPress or Blogspot ghost. Even before the massive transition to video platforms for book reviews and writing thoughts, group numbers were diminishing; community splits occurred, and members either formed new factions, or went someplace offline. And in the years since that, we’ve entered this kind of bizarre, toxic new phase where You’re Evil If You Include Prologues In Your Book, Listening Doesn’t Count, and You Aren’t A Real Author If…
Apart from the fact I’m exhausted and a bit nauseated from it all, I’m stunned at the absolute audacity. Most of these people giving “industry writing advice” are half my age! I’ve spent nearly 30 years honing my craft and querying and submitting to magazines and contests and self-publishing, and then presenting seminars and workshops and joining a small press. Through it all, I’ve witnessed and participated in old-school, new-school, trends-for-now, hot-this-year, throwback-method-that. I’ve literally been around the block a few times and kind of know more than these arrogant whippersnappers. Ahem. Before I sound a little too grumpy old woman (uphill! both ways! in a foot of snow!), I do want to say: The point stands.
And I did not get where I am by tromping all over those in the community that were my early ARC reviewers, have interviewed me for their podcasts, have shared my social media posts, and supported my work — even if they prefer a different genre, only listen to audiobooks, or wouldn’t write a prologue themselves.
In what feels like a rather short amount of time (remember, I’m old, I get to say 8 years is the blink of an eye!), we’ve gone from, “I will defend till my last breath your right to self-publish your dragon-rider-witch’s-bakery mashup” to “I will END you because you dared to suggest my favorite trope is overdone.”
And…isn’t that…just a little much?
Not all that long ago at all, those of us who had struggled in the query trenches (for, yes, a substantial block of time) and decided there had to be a better way to get our stories into the world, wanted to even the playing field by creating more small presses and more safe spaces for indie authors. Our intention was to greatly reduce the gatekeeping, so that more writers, and readers, could win.
Now the gatekeeping is worse. There’s a very strong indication among the BookTok crowd that wisdom is not valued, that how and what and why you read itself has intrinsically changed, and “these dumb old people” (anyone over 35, apparently) “need to stop telling us to x, y, z.” The exact same folks that, were it not for us, the OGs — pushing for posting fanfic on Wattpad at 1 a.m. counting as practicing writing, and for audiobooks to be legit — may not have the authors/genres/titles that were produced by this shift in the publishing climate, that are the darlings of this new generation of readers and vloggers.
So, what are they so upset about?
I don’t often wallow in nostalgia, but in this aspect, I definitely feel we’ve lost something — I truly hope not permanently — that was very special and made a difference in a lot of lives. Since it directly impacts me, I’m going to keep doing my part to cultivate an environment where readers and writers — in general — feel welcomed and valued.
I can’t yet think about the possibility of the space for such a place just…not existing.
November 16, 2025
The New Outsiders
So, in the past several months, two new bookstores have opened in my real life vicinity. On the one hand, you could assume that I, a seasoned bookdragon, would be absolutely thrilled about this. And I truly wish I could be. Because, on the other, I have discovered that neither of these places makes me feel welcome.
What?! How!? I hear you cry. After all, yes, I’ve been at this authoring thing for almost 8 years, I’ve been reading and honing my love and appreciation of literature for much longer than that, and no, I’m not well-known, but my books exist on Barnes & Noble’s online catalog, and that is nothing to sniff at. So, why wouldn’t I feel included at a bookstore?
Well, let’s start with Store A. (I’m not in the business of public shaming, so everything here remains anonymous; the point is the behavior and the mindset.) Back when Store A first opened, they launched a website, newsletter, and social media page, insisting they wanted to reach out to the community and draw in readers, writers, and publishers. I signed up for the newsletter, filled out the contact form, and began following the social media feed. In about a six-week span, I had been unsubscribed from the emails (yeah, I know…), no one ever responded to my contact details, and their posts stopped showing up on my timeline.
At first, I was gobsmacked. I had literally never done anything to this place, never spoken to the owners, never even set foot on the premises. (I think I’d brought up the store in conversation with someone at a library program once, and it was neutral.) Whereas seeing those posts about upcoming events and author Q&A and publishing workshops at Store A initially gave me sparks of joy and excitement, now felt like huge doors slammed in my face, cold, stark, and baseless rejections that stung terribly.
But after a bit, I drew in many deep breaths, adopted a, “Okay, screw you, then” attitude, and moved on. Store B — whose opening had been delayed more than once — had finally started accepting customers; and, to their credit, they did get back to me (at first) about joining their schedule of planned author events. After my most recent experience, I tamped down my hopes (which is pretty soul-crushing in itself), and quietly prayed for the best.
In the meantime, I went to Store B and checked it out. I attended a couple of events. It felt…weird. …Yup, weird. The inventory was very limited. The space was quite small. Just navigating the crowd/chairs/tables/frilly decor to find an open two inches to stand and peruse the shelf you’ve spent 10 minutes trying to get to…only to find you’ve read 90% of them, and could easily obtain the rest from the library…and that all titles were full retail price…was not a satisfying time.
The other, big thing that jumped out at me about Store B’s stock was…not a single indie author. It was all big names, ones I easily recognized or was at least previously acquainted with. Initially, I applied the benefit of the doubt; after all, a brand new business wouldn’t have a huge catalog from every single spectrum of publishing right off the bat…Right…?
However, after attending the events, I knew, for certain, that there was a distinct bias towards trad pub and small presses being “more legit” than self-publishing. The astounding level of ignorance among the audience about how one might release a book (meaning, they were all convinced finding an agent was the ONLY way); and the flabbergasting level of arrogance displayed by authors (meaning, that was the ONLY way they accepted as proper) made me not-metaphorically nauseous. I was almost embarrassed that I’d ever reached out to this place.
(By the way, my contact with Store B went from sporadic to completely dropping off about a month ago. I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten all about me, and it is not a fun feeling.)
And here’s where I get to the crux of the biscuit and lay out the ugliness of it all: Bookstores need to stop playing these games. Indie authors are just as valid and important as trad pub. Readers who prefer indie titles are just as important and needed and as those who focus on mainstream releases. Indicating (however subtly) that one is superior to the other will drive a further wedge between the trad and indie camps. In about a decade, indie authors have gone from being seen as a serious contender in the industry to considered subpar, untalented hacks releasing vanity projects to stoke our ego. This damaging perspective will drive self-publishing dreams back to the dark ages — and for no good reason.
We’ve become, again, the outsiders in a field we thought we’d conquered. We indies find ourselves scrambling to hold onto the respect we thought was now guaranteed. When I first took the plunge and made a Nook Press account (and underwent the formatting nightmare for the first of many times), I received mountains of praise for my courage, and achievement. But bit by bit, I’ve seen the support fade for so many of us, the cheerleaders drift off, and the skepticism and cynical takes return, and it’s not okay.
I’m so tired of being the outsider.
October 7, 2025
What’s Happened to Publishing?
Good morning! Hopefully none of you forgot about me, seeing as I haven’t posted in, well, a while. But over the last several weeks, I’ve found myself really struggling with just what to discuss here. And that’s for a bunch of reasons, which I’ll go into in a minute.
I wasn’t even sure what to title this post. I went with publishing, because I mean reading, and writing, and distribution, and the fact how we read — and what’s considered “valid” publishing has absolutely changed in recent years — so my goal is to cover a lot of territory, pretty much all of it under the generalized heading of “books.”
If you’re into any of the hobbies/interests/pursuits I am, you’ll have noticed something in the last decade or so about books. Not all that long ago, if you enjoyed reading for fun, you just went to the nearest library and took out a few titles that seemed cool, read them, returned to the library, and rinse and repeat. It was fine; more than that, for many of us, it filled in parts of our souls; it helped us learn about other cultures, dream of societies that may one day come to be, and made us laugh or healing-cry in ways other activities or endeavors did not. A book that really resonates with us, that seems to speak directly to our heart, is an incredibly valuable thing.
But. Then. Reading became a trend. Entire websites were created out of thin air to encourage us to gush lovingly about the authors/titles we cherished; and, unfortunately, even more so, to whine and bitch and rage about the ones we definitely did not. And, after a lot of introspection on this topic, I’ve realized something very, very bad: Goodreads has become about tearing down those with differing opinions, rage-baiting us into huge shouting matches regarding style and genre and totally subjective things, like whether first or third POV is “better.”
It’s only the start of the whole big problem. Now more than at any other point in civilized history, so many people are literate, and have access to a variety of reading material — physical copies, digital, audiobooks, trad pub, indie, even fanfiction has basically settled in as an acceptable category. For maybe the first time ever, comics and graphic novels are counted as reading by a lot of the mainstream book culture. This should simply be a positive thing. But.
If you’ve been on any social media platform (and indeed, there are gazillions of those now, too) discussing reading or writing since about 2015, you’ll know exactly what I’m saying. The trend dictates that we argue: trad versus indie, literary fiction versus genre fiction, modern versus classic. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Prologues, yes or no? Which is better, series or standalones? Death to all the tropes! — except all the favorite tropes! And these hot-button topics have to include timely, relevant, and so-new-it-won’t-happen-till-an-hour-from-now points and remarks and perspectives straight off the Instagram and Tiktok accounts of influencers who (surely) read 4389 books last year.
And in the end, what will we accomplish? Does anybody actually change their mind on prologues, “not like the other girls,” trilogies, or whether audio counts? Mostly…they don’t.
This is not fun. It’s not beneficial. It’s dumb. And exhausting.
Being a reader in this kind of toxic environment (because, yes, it is toxic) is hard enough. Now imagine being a writer on the battlefield of BookTok and BookTube. Your work could be subjected to unfair criticism, based solely on what tropes it does, or doesn’t, include; what narration style you like to use; whether you employed enough of this season’s buzz words; and how comparable to other recent releases your blurb makes your novel sound.
This is, by the way, assuming every influencer or reviewer who received a copy of your publication will, in fact, read it. Because, it turns out, now that “books” is a trend — and “literature” solidly an industry — we’ve reached the level of social-media-famous people (who used to work in marketing or fashion or tourism) being paid to record a prepared 30-second synopsis of what a publisher tells them they should say about the book.
And, because so many people are consuming short-form content (because no one can afford TV anymore and newspapers and magazines are all going digital and making you pay a lot more for them), this is how a whole lot of folks find out about new releases, and that’s what they’re buying.
And then… People realize these books were either AI produced, or ghostwritten (possibly by several individuals using very different outlines), or that they were rushed through, and…the short version is, these books suck. Titles spend 2 weeks on the bestseller list, only to be tossed into thrift store donation boxes, crammed into Little Free Libraries, placed on dozens of shelves in charity shops and library sales. This is, ironically, now its own trend, with the industry showing no signs of learning from their mistakes and preparing to pivot away.
Amid this turmoil, indie authors and the small press have absolutely claimed their spot. Marketing is more genuine (since budgets are smaller). Yes, there are some self-pub folks who use AI to create their content and don’t see an issue with doing so; but many of us are firmly against that, and readers do notice, and appreciate, the difference in how a totally-human-authored title reads. We are — almost without intending — a vital part of the industry, since eventually (I do believe) sales for trad pubs will drop (maybe dramatically across another couple seasons), and more readers will push for libraries and brick-and-mortar stores to carry indie works. That’s already started.
So, seeing as it appears I’ve nailed the answer to the question, “what’s happened to publishing?”, why do I continue to pontificate and opine?
Because we are not yet through the storm. We are presently in the middle of it. Right now, authors’ careers can be ended in one week by a handful of BookTok snobs lacking reading comprehension. Agents are deliberately told to reject queries that “sound too original or not on-topic.” Bookstores that aren’t part of a chain won’t stock non-trad-pubbed works because they’re convinced sales will take a big hit. You may not be invited to bookish events depending on your genre, your target audience, or your determination not to bring specific cultural discussions into the literary space.
(It’s actually happened to me. Years ago I was cut out of an entire group of fantasy authors because I mentioned Biblical lore/history in my debut, but did not blatantly label my work as “Christian fiction.” My work isn’t Christian fiction; it’s told from a Western world POV that recognizes the commonality of that religion and its affects on lifestyle and society, while also using, as plot points, many other mythologies and ancient tales. Like Tolkien, I despise allegory; so there isn’t meant to be a religious theme or message woven into my writing. Those who don’t like that, well, tough; I won’t change what/how I write just to placate them.)
But. (Here’s where what I’m about to admit really stings.) When you get removed, or choose to remove yourself, from a writing/reading community, you end up even more “out of the loop” (indies always risk being “out of the loop” by virtue of not having a big publicity team behind us). And when one of your main goals is to reach readers (not to become rich and famous, but to simply share your work), not gaining social media followers is a huge obstacle.
We have to engage in feeding the beast, to achieve what we desire, even if the method of getting there makes our skin crawl. No, I don’t expect to earn a living from my authorship; but, holy crap, that’d be amazing if I could. I poured literal blood, sweat and tears into my books; I want them to find their niche and be appreciated. I suck at typical marketing — because I won’t try to make myself into something/someone I’m not. I have no issue hollering into the void, “Hey, do you like cozy fantasy with characters who are nice people and belong to a secret organization that know the truth about monsters and mythical creatures and are in control of a warehouse full of magical artifacts? Yeah? Read my books!”But I hate comping, I hate pitches (Canva’s stealing art now, too, so I refuse to even make a mood board), and my body dysphoria prohibits taking provocative selfies with printed copies. Could I be reaching more potential readers by feeding the beast? Sure, that’s always a possibility. However.
I need to be able to sleep at night, confident in the knowledge that I made professional choices that won’t tear apart the personal me. That comes before sales, every time.
Hence, we are, at the moment, in the storm between the past of publishing (which was, yes, more exclusive, but also made sense and produced some truly great literature), and the present…whatever this mess is.
So, to the inevitable: How do we get through it?
My recommendation is to use public libraries as much as possible. Read low-star reviews of popular new releases (yes, I just said that), and compare not only the critiques of different (non-paid!) posts, but also think about what you want from a book. Don’t fall for the hype train — don’t rush to buy a title that “everybody is loving.” Save your hard-earned money for a release that speaks to your heart (for example, as a late birthday gift to myself, I did splurge on a new science-fantasy inspired by one of my favorite classics — because the whole premise made my soul sing).
The saying goes that companies start to change the way they’re doing business when customers hit them where it hurts: in the wallet. If we buy less AI-generated rubbish, eventually publishers will catch on.
Buy more indie. Request indie titles be included in your library system, or at that little corner bookstore. Review indies on not just Amazon, but Barnes & Noble (I’m a Nook Press author!), Kobo, Google Books, and if you still blog, on your blog. If somebody asks you to recommend a new read, throw a small press offering their way.
And don’t forget, this isn’t an “us versus them” situation. Plenty of trad authors are living, breathing humans who write every single sentence on the pages that bear their name (shout-out to my friend CG Drews!). Lots of agents and editors want real, live humans submitting queries and entering contests. Many online anthologies or zines won’t accept anything made via AI. It’s about banding together for artistic and integrity, and to increase access to literature while maintaining a standard of quality.
Can we make it?
July 14, 2025
It’s Year Eight: Time for a Whole Post About Supernatural!
So, why, in 8 years of blogging, have I never before posted about this show that is, regardless of all its issues, in my top 10 of TV series, that has inspired my own writing, and will always have a special place in my heart?
Well, to be honest, at first it was simply because the show broadcast new episodes for so long — I mean, 15 seasons, wowser — and it’s hard to get a feel for your thoughts on the entire series before you know how it finishes. And I was way behind — since I didn’t have access to the CW after about 2008, I had to catch up on the reruns on TNT, and then when all the seasons finally came to Netflix, I found multiple gaps in my viewing.
Anyway, now that the show definitely has completed production, and I’ve now seen probably 80% of the entire canon (and what I’ve skipped has been deliberate, and I read up on the Wiki, anyway) — and we’ve all had a few years to digest this enormous banquet of lore and plot and characters — I feel like this is a good time to have the discussion.
Warning: Strap yourselves in. This is going to be probably my longest musing/gushing/rant yet. (Yup, probably even more than The Vampire Diaries.) Brew a whole pot of tea, get out the whole box of cookies, and don’t forget to schedule in a bathroom break.
So, Supernatural. I imagine, even if you weren’t a viewer, you’ve at least come across (it’d be almost impossible not to by now) some casual knowledge of the basics: Two brothers, raised to hunt and kill all the stuff that goes bump in the night, pulled against their will into the ongoing battle of good versus evil, for the preservation of humanity itself. Dean and Sam Winchester are the central characters in this mostly-drama, sometimes-comedy, often beautifully poignant, undeniably long-winded tale of monsters and folklore and theology and urban legends.
The show started as absolutely just Monster Of The Week, with a new ghost/creature featured most early episodes, occasionally devoting a few scenes to furthering the subplot of seasons 1 and 2 — which focused on the brothers finding their father, John, who had gone missing before the start of the canon. While all of this was well and good — honestly, “the boys” (as we were all calling them before the pilot was even over) had great chemistry and connection from the first second, and their live-to-fight-another-day ethos was so inspiring — eventually we did need a meatier and more consistent plotline.
So, I don’t think anybody was actually upset when the long-running narrative of one particular Big Bad demon having it out for the Winchesters was introduced. Especially since this quickly led to peeling back the layers on all the world mythology that built the backdrop of the show’s premise, and naturally coming to what every civilization has feared since the beginning of time: The End Of The World.
As with any show that is so popular that it becomes an instant season renewal, after 5 years, directors and writers are going to run out of ideas, producers and cast and crew will run out of steam, and plotlines that have played themselves out need to be shelved. And having a new Big Bad every year got a little tedious, even as it advanced the overall canon and universe. Apocalypse fatigue meant the show reached a point of needing reinvention and reinvigoration. Hence, by mid-season 8, the tone changed, a lot — we were given the key to the Men of Letters bunker.
I’m aware many fans weren’t sold on this storyline, and, in retrospect, they prefer seasons 1-5. There are also plenty of us who enjoyed what came before, enjoy the middle, and are okay with the end. Then there are those — like me — who have begun to wonder if seasons 1-7 existed in some kind of parallel dimension, and seasons 8-12 are the “real” show…and then seasons 13-15 are in fact bad fanfiction that somebody pasted on the Wikipedia page, and the actual ending is something completely different that got lost in the ether during the pandemic shutdowns.
So, what happened? How did we go from “This show is my drug, I need to inject a weekly dose of Winchesters into my veins,” to “I am creating my own final episode and proclaiming that garbage a Mandela effect”?
Well, a few months ago, I finished my…fourth, I think, watch-through of seasons 1-11, and around 5 a.m., a thought came to me that put it all in the perspective I’d been missing before: Although Sam and Dean live in between the mortal realm and the supernatural, it’s always been established that — divine intervention aside — they’re only human, and they have driver’s licenses and birth certificates and family records, and all this traceable paperwork attached to their existence. Therefore…unfortunately everything set down in the pilot…isn’t possible.
Before the fandom comes at me with the torches and pitchforks, listen: The opening scenes of the show tell us about Mary and John Winchester, young parents with two small sons, Dean and baby Sam. This is in 1983, in suburban Kansas. One night, while getting the kids to bed, a strange, sudden, possibly mystical/demonic/evil fire erupts in the house, and Mary is killed. Of course, the fire department and police arrive, and the audience can tell the official story will be that the fire started, the parents tried to get the kids out first, and unfortunately Mary didn’t make it afterwards.
The canon states that after this tragedy, John immediately takes up hunting, dragging his sons across the country, sleeping in cheap motels, and somehow raising them in the back of a 1967 Impala, with the occasional help of fellow hunters or members of the clergy who know about the supernatural. In 2005, we were all excited about this. It sounded new, cool, intriguing, and just a little scary.
Isn’t it a shame, then, that, with about two minutes’ of thought in retrospect — it all falls apart. If this was truly in 1983…there is simply no way this happens. Dean was about 4 years old and Sam was an infant when Mary died. You can’t travel like this with such small children in a society where Sam and Dean would’ve needed regular pediatrician visits and school and other kids to play with and a consistent address. The entire backstory of the premise can’t have taken place.
So, what’s the more plausible headcanon? Since it takes several seasons to lay down family roots for Mary or John, and grandparents or aunts and uncles, or any sort of extended family, aren’t even mentioned for quite a while in the script, this moth is left to craft the following narrative: Without the fourth wall knowledge that Mary’s family, the Campbells, were, in fact, hunters, how would John ever have figured out it was a demon who killed his wife? And we’re not even told that until season 6 — which is pretty bloody late to be changing universe lore, in my opinion. And the Men of Letters, the heritage on John’s side, is brought in even later, in season 8.
Hence, I present this much more solid foundation: Hunters would have heard about Mary’s death and determined it worth investigating. While John was staying with neighbors, or temporarily in a cheap motel, trying to put his life back together, somebody would’ve come around Lawrence, Kansas, asking John plenty of odd questions hinting at paranormal involvement. For the sake of cementing future plotlines, let’s say it was Bobby (we never are told how he met John, and Sioux Falls, South Dakota is pretty close to Kansas, certainly a reasonable driving distance). Bobby never would’ve let two motherless kids just be thrown to the winds, if there was anything he could do about it; so it makes all the sense that Bobby would offer John a job in the junkyard, while training in hunter ways, and they could find a nanny or nurse for the boys. A backstory like this explains how John got into hunting, made his connections, and it allows for the cold, hard facts that children need homecooked meals and constant school enrollment so social workers don’t get called.
After giving poor young Dean and Sam a plausible start in life — one which would allow them grace and compassion for their father, rather than the absolute trauma-inducing dumpster fire upbringing presented in the canon (and that’s always bothered me) — getting spoonfed the notion that John taught the boys to hunt ghosts and monsters is much more palatable. It also sets the stage perfectly for the boys’ separate personalities: Dean was just old enough to remember Mary, and wants to help his dad avenge her; Sam wanting to go away to college and become his own man is the result of someone raised by a nanny or a nurse and a family friend, and sees John as an absentee father who was always chasing his own vendetta.
Now, even for all my grouching on the overall trajectory of the early seasons (Meg #1 and the Yellow-Eyed Demon still make me gag, sorry-not-sorry), some of those episodes remain among my favorites. Some of the monster stories are just great (the Woman in White in the pilot is chilling to this day). The story guest-starring Tricia Helfer as a wayward spirit is terrifying and still provides a lovely and warm closing. The show’s first werewolf episode, “Heart,” stands on its own for the genre and in televised entertainment as a whole. Watching the bond grow between Bobby and the boys is what always keeps us coming back.
But… Well, if we were in that parallel dimension where the network wasn’t breathing down people’s necks with ridiculous deadlines, and writers were allowed a bit more time to cook, and I could transplant myself into the position of being a showrunner on Supernatural, then I’d axe a good chunk of those early episodes. Basically, 75% of seasons 2-5 would be on the chopping block.
Compared to other shows I really enjoyed in the 2010s — like Warehouse 13 and The Librarians — Supernatural quickly feels…stale and repetitive before season 6. Despite the absolutely amazing Castiel and the completely captivating Crowley, many things about the apocalypse (surprisingly) drags. The angels-versus-demons take is unique, doesn’t feel preachy, purely exploring the human condition — certainly fresh for the subject matter — and yet, I quickly lose interest. I’ve heard — through that dangerous tool of the internet — that I’m not alone.
Which is why I was relieved to be able to admit that I was SO happy about the introduction of the Men of Letters plotline.
To me, the Men of Letters is where the story should have started. When the boys find out their paternal grandfather belonged to this organization that invented cataloging the lore — basically Bobby’s library would’ve been empty without these guys — it all feels just right. The bunker seems to simply mold to their personalities and routine and motives. Abaddon is the first true badass enemy since Lucifer. The idea of the Demon and the Angel Tablets is what was missing from previous Biblical-themed arcs. Castiel’s back, Crowley’s back, and they have new subplots, new motivations, and new alliances.
Which is why it hurts my heart so much to have to admit this next stage of the show lacks in one major way: the side characters.
The fact Bobby isn’t around to join them in the bunker is a travesty. Ben and Lisa being dropped is…not cool, in my eyes. Killing off Jo and Ellen and Rufus probably wasn’t a smart move by the armageddon-era crew. We needed more Garth, not less. Jody Mills deserved a lot of additional screen time (and better plots). And, personally, I loved Benny, and to this day want more than a few appearances from him.
Whereas I really liked Ruby #1 (but not #2, and watching the boys kill her was intensely satisfying), Meg #2 (her sense of humor and bond with Cas always hit), loved to hate Bela, found Balthazar to be a good blend of comic relief and learning what honor really means, enjoyed when Gabriel was the Trickster, and even Chuck was entertaining at first. But Kevin didn’t do it for me, Frank was meh, Becky was just a silly addition, and Charlie Bradbury makes my list of top 10 most annoying sidekicks.
And this is where the show starts to feel even more like a spinoff of itself. We barely hear anymore about Mary, or Jessica (yeah, remember, Sam’s girlfriend killed by the Yellow-Eyed Demon?); it seems nobody recalls Lucifer’s in the Cage (until it comes out of nowhere in season 11 — mostly because of The Darkness {hahaha, The Darkness}); the notion that Sam was supposed to go to law school totally disappears for, like, 7 years.
When we reach Sam-about-to-close-the-gates-of-Hell at the end of season 8 — I mean, those scenes are astounding… However…when Sam asks Dean, “What should I ask forgiveness for?”, and he means the specifics, and Dean says, “I’d start with Ruby…” I went, What, we suddenly remember Ruby and Lilith now? And it hit me just how we’d strayed from the origins. We literally went from Sam drinks demon blood and has telekinetic powers to…he’s considered the more pure of the brothers, the better to complete the Trials. And on the one hand, yes — because Dean was the womanizer, he made how many demon deals? (like, four?), he often lied and went behind Sam’s back. But…Dean was also chosen to be Michael’s vessel, whereas Sam was deemed perfect as Lucifer’s. And early on, with the demon blood, and Ruby, and opening the Seals, yes, that paints Sam as the black sheep. But, after getting his soul back, he does nothing but try to achieve redemption. And after Lisa and Ben are out of the picture, Dean seems to be back to one-night stands and indiscriminately killing anything that bleeds.
However…that’s also how we like our boys. Sam is the more intellectual, the more scholarly, the more naturally sensitive. Dean is the tough guy, not who you’d bring home to your parents, but who you’d absolutely want in the foxhole with you.
By the time we start season 9, there’s a real concrete sense of what we’re here for, and the show does seem to become almost fourth-wall-ish aware of this. We want the boys, hunting together, and if they have a fight, for it to be about a real, solid reason, that still won’t pull them apart forever. We want Cas, strong and powerful, and naive and wonderfully genuine. We want Bobby’s influence and love stamped on every decision they make. We want Crowley to be snarky and clever and the King of Hell. We want the stakes high, but conquerable, and we need some dad jokes and innuendos served up with a decent dose of monster guts.
Oh, and don’t you dare forget the classic rock.
So much of seasons 9 and 10 deliver across the board for me. It’s my favorite incarnation of Cas, of Crowley; Rowena is just a fantastic villain; the whole Cain arc stuns me to this day. “Brother’s Keeper” is, in my opinion, one of the best season finales of the show, and the last 5 minutes makes me cry every time. Even though “the musical episode” is the one most fans of any program consider worth skipping, “Fan Fiction” is beloved among the Supernatural audience, and with very good reason. It weaves in the reality of dropped storylines and forgotten sidebars with all the true heart of the boys in the Impala trying to save the world, and gives Sam and Dean a slightly different perspective on their lives.
Unfortunately, for me, it really takes a (massive) tumble downhill after season 11. 12 almost did me in, and I caught up on a lot of 13, 14, and 15 via the Wiki. The Darkness was, I felt, a laughable villain; letting Lucifer out of the Cage was just foolish; Jack’s whole storyline felt like a copy-and-paste of Cas’ early arc; the alternate universe (and everybody dead being alive, gah!) was not my jam; and the British Men of Letters being plonkers really rubbed me the wrong way.
(And do not get me started on Chuck turning out to be God.)
By the later years, the show was suffering from having become the victim of its own tropes. (“How many times have you two died?!” Amen!) It was like whenever the writers got stuck, they’d have an intern rifle through past scripts and throw ideas in a hat. What should we do this week? Well, we brought somebody back from the dead already, so… Okay, we’ll suggest a side character can’t be trusted. After that? How about a wish that temporarily changes the present reality? Cursed object that makes someone not act like themselves for a day? Any chance we can work in one more time travel bit? Find a character to have some serious family conflict, quick!
Honestly, I didn’t even watch the episode with the wish that brought John back, because I was too worried it would absolutely ruin everything that had come before. As terrific a grouping as Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki is, part of what made it magic for the show was the notion that it’s past. John dying so early into the boys’ finding their feet as hunters was the driving force behind so much of their character arcs. The story needs John and Mary to be dead. Not that I support the “the parents are always kicking the bucket” trope in fantasy, but in this case, it’s one of the major cornerstones.
So, if I got my wish and had the chance to be the ultimate moth editor, what would my ending look like? I actually mentioned it once in a previous post (approximately six and a half eons ago, so please don’t ask me to find it now), and I believe it solidly works. At the end of season 10 (yeeesss), instead of introducing “The Darkness” (woooooo, I’m so not scared), Death could have agreed to kill Dean — to stop history repeating itself in the Cain-and-Abel way. And this happened just before Rowena completed the spell to break the curse on the Mark, so when she released that magic into the ether, Death’s erasing the Mark’s existence (with Dean’s death) would have created such a strong blowback to Rowena’s spell, it would’ve basically exploded the witch. (Now that’s a banger exit scene!)
Instead of closing up the bunker, Sam would have found other legacies and hunters to train as new Men of Letters; and now he and Crowley would have had a very firm agreement about what demons are allowed to do. And it would have been revealed that Castiel was, in fact, God.
Before the premiere of season 11, I read a Buzzfeed article exploring the various speculations among the fandom about the identity of God (since there were hints given at Comic Con that year that this would finally be shared with viewers in the near future). It was a very comprehensive look at all the theories; and one of them was that Castiel was, actually, the Lord of Heaven, but he’d made himself forget that fact, to protect himself and his ultimate plans from being hijacked by Lucifer, or one of the other angels.
It was a really well thought-out, interesting theory that made a lot of sense. It took into account how Cas was able to rescue Dean from Hell at the start of season 4, how he was strong enough to send Dean through time, defeat the Archangels almost singlehandedly, and why gathering the power of the souls from Purgatory was so important in season 6. (The whole point of that exercise was to amp Cas up enough to gain celestial levels of energy, and be capable of putting down the angel rebellions/in-fighting and restore balance/control in Heaven. Death hinted to Dean that only he and God knew this was even a thing.) The part of Cas’ arc when he Fell and was human for a while, and then when he lost his mind, are also big nods to plenty of world theology/folklore around gods having to live among/as the mortals, or questioning their own sanity in the face of being divine.
I easily got on board this train of mullings; it connected a bunch of dots and ironed out several of the kinks in the show’s framework. I got really excited for the possibility that these fans might be even a little close.
Not that I think you should let fans dominate your ultimate writing plans, but, in this case…taking some direction from the audience would have greatly improved certain things.
(Sighs loudly in the background. Fricking Chuck. Chuck, seriously, folks?)
So, at the end of it all, despite being disappointed by the final episodes, what keeps me coming back to Supernatural?
So many things. Of course, the boys, their bonds, the friendships, Bobby, the Impala, the enemies-to-allies like Crowley and Rowena, the jokes, the great one-liners, the quotes that practically meme themselves. The satisfaction of “doing a little bad so you can do a lot of good”; the tears that flow freely when that gunshot goes off to the background of “Silent Lucidity”; the lump that forms in my throat as Cain gives Dean the Mark and tells the elder brother, “When I call for you, come find me.” Cas announcing, “I’ll interrogate the cat,” or saying so calmly to a self-professed atheist, “I’m an angel of the Lord.” The precious reminder that “family don’t end in blood.”
And totally the fact that I used to sing the theme from The Greatest American Hero as a lullaby to my children; so when human Castiel does so to baby Tanya (S9 E6, “Heaven Can’t Wait”), I will take credit for that idea, please and thank you.
Although 15 years still feels way too long, there is so much good that came out of this show. Some stuff we’ll happily forget about, or pass over. But there’s also tons we’ll eagerly return to, share with others, discuss into the wee hours of the night. This production was comprised of a wonderful, dedicated, hardworking cast and crew, and none of them should be dismissed or forgotten too soon. (Well, maybe the Ghostfacers. And The Darkness. And Becky. And Chuck.)
Despite my undisguised disdain for particular arcs or seasons, the program has fed so many pieces into my everyday life. When I start a comment to the hosts of the We Have Issues podcast, “Hello, boys,” that’s my Crowley line. Bits of the King of Hell, Sam Winchester, Castiel, and the Men of Letters are there to be found in my own fantasy series. If I’m having one of those days where everything goes wrong, eventually you’ll hear me holler, “Son of a bitch!” in that tone.
So, hopefully you’ve reached the conclusion of this post without shaving 15 years off your life. Thank you for coming to my TED talk, because, holy cow, that’s definitely what this was. I hope I haven’t upset anybody too much with my unpopular opinions (ha ha), and that reading this has been worth the whole pot of tea and whole box of cookies. Have a great week, everyone!
July 11, 2025
Table Scraps: ARC Review and Book Promo
Necessary disclaimer: Table Scraps is a horror/comedy novel (yes, you read that right) that I thoroughly enjoyed. However, it also definitely knocked my sensory socks off at (several) points, and indeed, I often don’t review works from the more graphic and gruesome category. So, as I have said before, while I will never stop championing books I love, I’m aware taste is subjective, and that not every work I enjoy will find its slot with every single reader that comes across this review. But, for those of you that may have just found their next favorite, this is absolutely why I’m here.
Okay, onwards!
This is technically an ARC review, though I beta-read the final draft of this soon-to-be-published story. Table Scraps by Anthony LaFauci begins by introducing the narrator/protagonist, Cole, and his other half, Erin, who seems to be trying to break up on this balmy evening in a park in Florida. During this less-than-pleasant situation, an unspecified monstrous creature erupts out of the shadows and attacks Erin and Cole.
After this gangbusters opening, we find ourselves following Cole’s observations as he awakes in a morgue, and it’s revealed he’s not dead — he’s undead, namely, a ghoul. We quickly find out two things: Cole is as shocked as we are, and no, he’s not the same as a zombie — though he does feel an overwhelming need to nosh on humans.
With the assistance of the mortician, Terry (I can’t say anything else without spoilers!), Cole begins to conquer his new hunger, and to navigate a bit of this strange world he’s now part of. (The idea of the instruction manuals cracked me up!)
After a truly trope-breaking section, during which Cole attends his own funeral (brilliant), he finds himself drafted into accompanying Terry on, basically, monster-hunting missions.
In this universe, so many of the typical creatures we’ve come to expect from such a tale do exist — vampires, werewolves, zombies, ghouls (already established), and the like. Terry gets his marching orders from a dude called Roman (NO spoilers!), and almost right away, we the readers can begin to tell there is much more to the plot than appears on the surface.
Moment of dropping the professional pen: Guys, this book is so good. Yes, there were plenty of parts that made me go, “Hahahaha-aaaeeeewwww,” “GAAAAAH,” and even, “YOWSER”; but there were also so many that made me shake with laughter, or feel the sting of tears and a lump in my throat. As I read on, each chapter brought fresh swells of emotion, be it hilarity, poignance, or honestly grossed out. I couldn’t wait to find out what happened next, and when I reached the end of the story, I immediately wanted more.
(For example, I could’ve easily done with an entire spinoff about the side character Tessa. I love Tessa.)
This is a book about monsters that asks the question: When do you lose your humanity? What’s an unnecessary kill, and how do you develop the creature moral compass that determines how far is too far?
And this discussion is had around finely-structured blocks of insane action, and a bit dark but always witty and unique sense of humor. The fight scenes don’t get stale; there’s always new methods, new motives, new enemies; and the narration adapts to the growing backstory as Cole fills in the gaps. This is a tale that never feels stuck in a repetitive loop; I always looked forward to what would come next, even when I started to guess some things. (NO SPOILERS!)
My notes were chock full of hearts and stars and emojis, underlining quotes or quips that nearly broke my heart, or dissolve in giggles. In short, this is a novel that reminds us why combining genres is important, and how doing so gives us greater joy and insight into what may otherwise be seen simply as a silly, icky monster romp.
Cover reveal below (warning: ’tis graphic)
Table Scraps is expected to release this fall. If you’re interested, follow the author, @AnthonyLaFauci, on Twitter/X, and/or subscribe to the podcast he co-hosts on YouTube, We Have Issues.
April 29, 2025
Literary Snobbery Needs to Go Extinct
I present to you a tale of two writing groups: They occur in different time periods, and have different goals, and don’t necessarily include the same people, but they end up on the same path and arrive at the same outcome.
Because this does involve real people in a world I inhabit, there will be a whole lot of parable-izing going on. But, the relevant points can be made without directly calling out any specific individuals.
Group A: The scene and purpose: Several years ago, a number of regular citizens who wanted to journal important life events, so that future generations would have the information and anctedotes to refer to, gathered to embark on this task. However, after a while, the group faltered, as its members felt they were struggling with making sure their drafted words were actually readable — not in a potential bestseller way, but simply, in a way that would deliver the proper intent and meaning of relating the stories they wished to share, in an engaging and comprehendible manner. (Professional writers call this “honing the craft.”) The self-appointed leader of the group declared this approach was not necessary, that there was plenty of validity to merely writing multiple journaling-style pieces on topics one found important to oneself. Parts of the group became disillusioned, or frankly bored, with this method, and attendance declined, and eventually the group disbanded entirely.
Group B: A few years afterwards, an independent writer who wished to belong to a space where they could receive feedback and brainstorming ideas or thoughts for their work in progress, approached a regional public library about hosting such a program (especially as this had been done in the past). Such a thing was arranged, and the call sent out to professional writers, hobbyist journalists, and armchair essayists alike. What assembled was a mix of all of the above.
What the mix seemed to have in common were two things — a disdain for formal instruction in the craft, and of any sort of writing that did not resemble or refer to reality as we know it.
Interestingly, one of the first to stop attending was the same person who wanted the group begun. This moth never did figure that one out, but wondered if it had something to do with the apparent lack of tolerance for non-realistic material (as this first was working on a young adult novel based heavily on mythology and ancient religion).
A new approach was suggested for sharing the results to writing prompts, and for giving feedback. Many more of the attendees vanished, never to be seen again. Through the meetings, this moth (who preferred to stay invisible but would find her voice when there was a thought worth sharing), felt giving this method a chance could be valuable in honing her own skills, and that of the few others who remained.
However, that all changed one day when a comment was made that the fantasy genre, as a whole, is not convincing, and does not draw readers in enough to be compelling reading.
When you consider that this moth has spent her entire life being compelled, convinced, and drawn to her purpose by fantasy media, to hear such a blatantly prejudiced remark, right in front of her as well — when it says right on her resume as card-carrying-author, “cozy fantasy novelist” — well, that was the moment the moth decided to leave Group B.
[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp..." data-large-file="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp..." src="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp..." alt="" class="wp-image-29080" style="width:278px;height:auto" srcset="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 683w, https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 100w, https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 200w, https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 768w, https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 867w" sizes="(max-width: 683px) 100vw, 683px" />Photo by lil artsy on Pexels.comOkay, less parable-izing now. (Honestly, talking about myself in the third person just feels strange.)
Anyway, that one comment — not personally aimed, not intended to cause harm — still gave me intense imposter syndrome for days. It hurt, the idea that something I love so much could cause that level of eye roll and disparaging tone. Are there genres I feel like that about? Of course! Do I say it so bluntly in mixed company? God, no! Maybe I’m just built with empathy, or maybe it’s because I like a lot of “niche” subjects, but I naturally have learned not to immediately crap on somebody else’s favorite thing. I know how to read the room, as it were. Apparently, this is not a regular practice for other people.
Also, it was…kind of astounding to me, that, in the year 2025, after the intense popularity of series like Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, Twilight, Lord of the Rings, and Game of Thrones, that literary snobbery — such as “fantasy isn’t a worthy genre” — still exists at all.
The worst part of the whole experience was the fact that I could tell no amount of my explaining, defending, debating, or begging would get the group to even give the topic a fair shot. For whatever reason, the consensus seemed to have been reached before I ever arrived on the scene, that fantasy is silly, or dumb, or just sucks. And, man, if that isn’t discouragement bottled up and then shaken in your face.
So, what did I do about it?
Well, at first, I sulked, and grouched, and wanted to cry.
Then I took a deep breath, brought an author copy of my latest paperback release (yes, these two things coincided) down to the library for the staff to catalogue it. Because all of my publications to date have been entered into the library system. And occasionally, they even get checked out.
And when I gave that fresh new copy to the senior librarian (who I used to work with), and her face lit up with genuine delight at my latest accomplishment, that reminded me why I do this.
For the people who respond like that. Not those who…don’t.
[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp..." data-large-file="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp..." src="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp..." alt="" class="wp-image-29242" style="width:635px;height:auto" srcset="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 823w, https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 1647w, https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 150w, https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 300w, https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 768w, https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp... 1024w" sizes="(max-width: 825px) 100vw, 825px" />Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.comBut all of this leads me to the inevitable question: What makes some readers think fantasy is a lesser form of literature?
I’m aware that the idea of accepting mythical creatures, invented cultural and spiritual paths, and that, no, it isn’t a typo, it is the protagonist’s name, can be too much for some folks. And, as long as they’re respectful about expressing that preference, I won’t be insulted by it.
Where they lose me is the notion that, just because it has centaurs and mermaids or Bigfoot and Nessie, elves and magic being real and lots of Latin, such a book is, somehow, of lesser literary quality than, for example, Sherlock Holmes, or Ann Patchett, or one of those police procedural series where each title includes a dad-joke sort of pun.
Is it simply the way American culture forces us to “give up childish things” when we reach a certain age? (But if so, how would that explain why romantsy and sci-fi and magical realism are bestselling adult categories?)
No, I think it comes down to the old-fashioned, but evidently still pervasive, concept that anything we can’t see, touch, interact with, or scientifically research is not worth devoting our brainpower or emotions to.
And that I just find laughable.
Every single animal, plant, and location on this planet was once unknown to particular peoples or institutes. Just because we claim something doesn’t exist, in fact, does not mean it actually isn’t real. (The elephant being an absolute case in point.) We didn’t understand gravity or how thunderstorms work for centuries; our lack of knowledge never meant these things weren’t happening around us all the time.
One of the exact reasons I love fantasy is the air of mystery, the thrill of discovery, and the joy of wonder suspending your disbelief and just going with it brings.
We have learned so much about this world around us and how it works that…there isn’t so much to be amazed about in the everyday anymore.
And not only does that sound downright dull as dishwater, it makes me sad.
I want to be able to go to a place where not everything has been discovered, even if only for an hour before bed.
I want to believe there’s more out there than what I experience week after week.
If that means I’m somehow immature or not a “proper” reader, then, screw it — I’ll wear that badge with pride.
And I will not stop writing fantasy, probably not ever.
April 16, 2025
Publishing Update!
Good morning! I believe this is the latest I’ve ever been with a publishing update or announcement, as it’s been I think 2 weeks since the link went live, but it’s been a *waves hands gesturing to everything* time around here, so I’m a bit off for blogging.
Anyway, for those of you who have been waiting for the paperback release of Volume 4, it is here! Use the link below to purchase a physical copy from Barnes & Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/prodigies-and-legends-daley-downing/1147135174
Summary: Avery McKinnon has always had the ability to see into the future. But one day, she sees something so terrible, she would do anything to prevent it coming to pass – including traveling in time and risking all the paradoxes.
In the fey realm, the Seelie Court prepares to remove a tyrant from power – a necessary undertaking that comes with its own uncertainties.
If all goes well, no one Avery loves will die, a dark elf will be punished for his crimes, and halfbreeds everywhere will be safe, on both sides of the Veil. And there will be graduations, family rifts resolved, and new additions welcomed to the Annex.
She has to succeed.
And remember, if ebooks are your jam, digital editions of the *entire* Order of the Twelve Tribes series — Volumes 1-4 and Fire and Wind — are available at ASAP Imagination:
The Daley Downing CollectionAnd, as always…
[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp..." data-large-file="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp..." src="https://daleydowning.wordpress.com/wp..." alt="" class="wp-image-29298" style="width:312px;height:auto" />Photo by Vie Studio on Pexels.comMarch 3, 2025
The YouTube Discussion: Part the Third
I believe I’ve done two other posts like this, hence the title. And here is a cute doggo looking a bit confused, bless him. I’m confused, too.
Specifically about when, or how, or maybe just *waves hands in overwhelming puzzlement* YouTube became its own cable network hitting all the genre tropes.
In my previous posts on YouTube, I talked about how my favorite creators/vloggers were enriching my life and the entertainment scene. Unfortunately, that was a while ago, and now…well…
I’ll just go straight into the rants.
Point the First: What the hell happened to Ryan Trahan?
Ryan Trahan was one of the most wholesome and down-to-earth YouTubers on the platform. He was an average kid who didn’t really know what he wanted to do with his life, and kind of fell into doing reviews of under-hyped restaurants and travel locations. It was a delight to watch his latest forays into the range of venues now offered through Air B&B, hear his thoughts on why this Chinese-Mexican-fusion truck stop in the middle of nowhere deserved more visitors, and get treated to the occasional pup shot of his dog Spock. Then he decided to buy and relaunch an under-performing candy product, and called it Joyride, and managed to get it in the inventory of major retailers like Target. And it was like the man changed overnight.
With Joyride’s success came the apparent fame-and-money-has-gone-to-his-head moment that many fans of various celebrities or influencers expect, but dread, and with good reason. Trahan’s last several videos have been heavily-edited compilations of him traveling across the world, on very expensive flights and trains, dining at exclusive restaurants, and taking his (already spoiled) wife to bucket-list destinations. I am not impressed.
Years ago, I stopped watching travel shows on TV, because they were all about professional chefs or journalists getting special invitations to ancient monuments on protected land and dining on exotic dishes even the locals no longer consumed. No one lives like that. I couldn’t stand the fakeness, and I wanted to see how real people would travel. Ryan Trahan spending the night in an RV at a farm in Missouri, where he could pet the animals while watching the sun set over the hills, and then he got excited when he realized Taco Bell delivered to said RV, was charming and attainable. It actually made me want to try traveling (I notoriously have not left my region in the past 10 years). This 20-something trying to turn into the next Anthony Bourdain has the distinct opposite effect.
YouTube was already filled with travel vlogs, food vlogs, and a combination thereof. Yes, recently a whole lot of these folks have migrated to Instagram or TikTok instead, but the fact stands: Many viewers don’t see the need for more of them on YT, myself included.
Point the Second: Dhar Mann
Remember when network television was chock full of these ridiculous sitcoms with canned laugh tracks and unbelievable plot points, and at the end of each 27-minute episode, everything was back to how it had been at the start and none of the characters had really learned anything or grown? And how these shows fell out of fashion eventually, because people wanted to watch something that made sense and presented relatable discussions? It’s why the vlogs of normal, everyday people experienced such a meteoric rise on social media.
Then there’s Dhar Mann. Who apparently didn’t get the memo that sitcoms with one-dimensional characters and unrealistic storylines were pretty much done away with in the early aughts, for good reason. Dhar Mann’s channel is all videos filmed like a TV show, scripted, using actors, and presenting an “after school special” sort of theme, like bullying, a parent losing a job, a friend caught lying, and so forth. These videos are incredibly gaggy and not one bit how things work in real life. Bullies do not stop their behavior because you ask them nicely. A company focused on the bottom line does not give someone with no experience a high-ranking position because they asked nicely. Teachers will not un-suspend troublemaking kids because you ask nicely. You get the idea.
I hate things like Dhar Mann videos. I hate the wrong impression they’re spreading among kids, that you can get anything you want if you smile enough, that somehow the world will just fall at your feet simply because you dream big. It’s sugarcoating the long and involved process of serious and important matters like adopting children, getting out of poverty, beating addictions, recovering from critical illnesses. My generation was fed all sorts of this crap, and it’s why we wanted our kids to have role models who showed triumph over adversity without covering up the hard parts. Dhar Mann is the anthesis of that, and starting the cycle of impossible expectations all over again.
Point the Third: Drew Gooden and company need to stop whining
How many of us stopped watching daytime talk shows, one-name hour-long whine-fests on cable news, sports channels, and even late night TV, purely because we could no longer handle the intense amount of griping? I gave up on the talking heads ages back — not that I was big on them to begin with — and had absolutely no regrets about doing so. Almost a year ago, I was trying to find new YouTube channels to add to my list, and somehow came across Drew Gooden and his friends, Eddie Burback, Danny Gonzalez, and Kurtis Conner. Now, for whatever reason, Danny and Kurtis’ styles did not gel for me, so I’ve only watched a couple each of their vids. But I’ve spent several nights catching up on the back catalog of Drew and Eddie, respectively.
At first, it was fun — I liked hearing their takes on changes in technology, business models, and entertainment. I enjoyed that, even when the subject matter or tone was serious, they still threw in jokes or light-hearted moments. Then two things happened that drastically changed my mind about both these presenters (separately, but how I feel about both now is a very similar disdain).
One: I watched Eddie Burback’s videos on traveling to every single Margaritaville and every single Rainforest Cafe in the USA and Canada.
Two: A Drew Gooden video gave me a panic attack.
The impacts of One: I found it tremendously hypocritical that a man who literally spends the majority of his time and effort — and gets paid for! — complaining about how pervasive stuff like corporate chains have become in our lives even made these trips — purely for channel content as well! I began to wonder if someone in such a privileged position of being able to spending weeks on end traveling and filming it was really the person we should be going to for rants on DoorDash scams and TicketMaster ripoffs.
The reasons for Two: For a while now, Drew has been whining — intensely — about AI, and how social media feels so toxic anymore, and how streaming services are changing their business models, and…basically everything he uses in his daily life makes him miserable, but…here he is, months later, still using it and whining about it. And sometimes it can be cathartic to listen to someone vent, especially if you agree with most of their thoughts. I honestly enjoyed his reviews on random products he bought from Twitter and Instagram ads, as some were winners, and it was interesting to get a layman’s perspective on these items. But now…the endless bitching and moaning about Facebook bots and Netflix original programming and $76 for a bottle of wine made with grapes picked off the vine by a famous TikToker, and OH MY GOD do not get me started on his insistence on watching Hallmark Christmas movies and somehow being surprised they’re complete garbage. This…is not it, fam.
The other night, I was watching his latest, and after about 15 minutes, could literally feel my blood pressure going up. Before I reached the end of the video, I was starting to hyperventilate, and had to shut it off. I realized I was having the same reaction I used to get when watching horror movies, and yelling at the screen, “Don’t go down there by yourself! Run to the car and drive away from the scary, blood-decorated basement! How stupid are you?!”
That comparison may not seem to connect, but here’s why it does: This man is using all the air in the room to tell us how much he hates this technology that…he could simply stop using. If social media gives him that much anxiety, he can just delete his accounts and find healthier ways to spend his free time than doomscrolling. If he can’t stand watching certain streaming services, he can cancel those subscriptions. If seeing ads gives him FOMO, he can install an ad blocker. “How stupid are you?!”
So, I’m saying buh-bye to the talking heads YouTubers.
Point the Fourth: If It Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix It
I watch YouTube for entertainment. I like to have a respite from the dumpster fire of reality. I want to spend an hour or two before bed laughing at Gaming Beaver’s attempt at dad jokes; reveling in the so-satisfying-sensation of those 100 layers of whatever coming apart after Preston gives it umpteen whacks with a baseball bat; smirking at non-lethal re-creations of The Squid Games. I enjoy Brianna figuring out the puzzles in the newest Garden of Banban; Kindly Keyin being determined to save all the cute little androids in Astro Bot; DanTDM, against all logic, getting stuck in a vanilla Minecraft seed. I need to see people behaving like decent human beings, even kind and respectful of pixelated NPCs trying to help them complete a level, in a game that has no stakes for the outside world. I don’t have my head in the sand; I’m maintaining my sanity so that I can keep functioning to raise my children and hopefully teach them how not to be asshats.
Anyway, here’s the biggest point of this post — I stopped watching traditional TV a long time ago because I hated “reality” shows, faked DIY, pundits hollering that the planet’s exploding but not offering a single possible fix to any of the problems, and “family” programs teaching kids it’s okay to coerce their parents into buying them an IPad because their dimples are so persuasive. I do not need YouTube to turn into the thing it claimed to be the solution for.
End rant.
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