H.S. Harding's Blog

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us—hello. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.

I’ve been getting a lot of questions about the reading order of the Forgotten Spire series. Specifically: Why is Zulu Company listed as Book 2 when it actually takes place before Operation Forgotten Spire (Book 1)?

It’s a fair and logical question.

Here’s the simple answer: The books can be read in any order, but there’s a reason behind the numbering.

Operation Forgotten Spire is the lynchpin of the entire series. Everything eventually ties back to it. Because of the time bubble and overlapping timelines, the story gets complex quickly. Zulu Company feeds directly into Book 3 (Talon’s Stand). After Talon’s Stand, the different timelines converge with Operation Forgotten Spire, and the final three books of the series will follow in chronological and numbered order.

It’s a little confusing at first—I’m sorry about that. But I promise it will make sense as you read.

Each main novel also has a companion novella that expands the world. These are completely optional. You don’t need them to enjoy the main story, but they add depth and let you spend more time with characters you love. The companion novella for Operation Forgotten Spire is written, titled Before the Spire, but I have not put the polish on it yet to publish.

The first companion novella, Shadowveil, releases in August and focuses on the fan-favorite character Ivy Carron.

The world is growing and taking shape in ways I never fully expected when I started. I’m having an absolute blast writing it, and I truly hope you enjoy reading it just as much.

Thank you for your patience with the unconventional timeline and for continuing to follow along on this journey. Your support and curiosity mean the world to me.

See you next Wednesday — take care out there.

H.S. Harding

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us—hello, truly. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.

Some scenes flow easily onto the page. Others fight you the whole way, but eventually come together after enough editing. Then there are the ones that feel truly difficult.

The hardest scene I’ve ever written appears in Zulu Company. I’m still not sure I got it exactly right. Writing any kind of assault is incredibly sensitive. You have to strike a careful balance: enough detail to make the moment feel real and emotionally impactful, but enough restraint and literary distance to respect the reader’s sensibilities.

In this particular scene, a relatively minor assault takes place. However, I needed Blaine Hawke to believe it was far worse. Writing in close third-person POV created a tricky challenge. I had to let the reader gradually realize Blaine was overreacting while keeping Blaine himself completely convinced in the heat of the moment. I spent more time on that single scene than any other in the book. I wove in subtle external clues and fragments of overheard conversation that Blaine, in his adrenaline-fueled state, simply couldn’t piece together.

I think it worked. At least my inbox hasn’t been flooded with complaints so far.

An author can't shy away from these kinds of difficult scenes, but they’re a real challenge. They push me as a writer and force me to grow.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to refill my coffee and start thinking about the next tough scene waiting for me.

Thank you for walking through these writing ups and downs with me every Wednesday. Knowing you’re here makes even the hardest pages feel a little less lonely.

See you next week — take care out there.

H.S. Harding

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us—hello, truly. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.

Zulu Company releases next Tuesday. To say I’m nervous would be a massive understatement. I’m excited, proud, and quietly terrified all at once.

Every book an author releases shows growth, and this one is no exception. I genuinely love the story, the characters, and the world we’ve built. But with that love comes the familiar anxiety every writer knows: What if nobody reads it? Followed immediately by the even scarier thought, what if somebody does?

There’s always that lingering worry that the pages will be seen as a direct reflection of me and my values. Stories carry messages, whether we intend them or not. In the case of Zulu Company, the deeper themes — loyalty, duty, betrayal, and finding inner purpose — grew organically as the characters developed their own voices and minds.

I wish I could take full credit for Ivy’s quiet altruism or Blaine’s rock-solid commitment to duty, but I can’t. Those qualities emerged on their own. Blaine’s sense of loyalty goes far beyond anything I possess—he’s next-level. At times, it feels like I’m not creating them so much as discovering who they already are.

Maybe that’s just projection. Or maybe characters really do take on lives of their own. Either way, they made choices I didn’t always plan for them to make.

So if you pick up Zulu Company, please don’t judge this humble author too harshly for the actions of his characters. They did that part themselves.

I’m incredibly grateful to everyone who has supported me this far—the early readers, the ARC team, and all of you who keep showing up here every Wednesday. Your encouragement means more than you know.

Zulu Company drops next Tuesday. I can’t wait to share it with you.

Thank you for being on this journey with me.Take care out there.

H.S. Harding

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us—hello, truly. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.

One of the most popular characters with my early readers is Ivy Carron. She’s become so well-loved that I ended up building an entire companion novella, Shadowveil, around her story.

What many people don’t know is that Ivy almost didn’t make the cut. When I first planned Zulu Company, Ivy was meant to be nothing more than a temporary character foil during training—the brains to Blaine Hawkes’ brawn. Once that sequence ended, she was supposed to quietly fade into the background and disappear from the narrative.

But as the story unfolded, the chemistry between her and Blaine was undeniable. The more I wrote, the more real she became. I couldn’t just write her out. So I opened the door and let her story breathe. She grew into someone far more complex and important than I ever intended.

Now she has her own novella (Shadowveil), and she’s the main character of Book 3, Talon’s Stand, which I’m hoping to release in 2027.

Not bad for a character who was originally destined to be a throwaway. This is one of the things I love most about writing, when a character refuses to stay in the small box you built for them. Sometimes the best parts of a story are the ones that surprise the author.

Are you curious about Ivy? I can’t wait for more of you to meet her. She’s special.

Thank you for being here and for embracing these characters as they come to life. Your excitement and support keep me motivated every single week.

See you next Wednesday — take care out there.

H.S. Harding

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us—hello, truly. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.

I’m doing something a little different with my Forgotten Spire series. Each main novel has a companion novella designed to expand and deepen the world.

A fellow author friend recently asked me the obvious question: “If the story is important enough to tell, shouldn’t it just be in the main book?”It’s a fair point. And my answer is: yes… and no.

The stories told in the companion novellas are important. They matter. In fact, if you read Zulu Company, I highly recommend picking up Shadowveil once it’s released. However, including those events directly in the main novel would pull focus away from the story I’m trying to tell.

Zulu Company is Blaine Hawkes’ story. That’s the lens through which the book is written. There’s a significant, character-changing event that happens to someone very important to him—but it occurs off-screen. Shadowveil gives that other character their own voice and space, allowing readers to understand what they went through and why it matters.

Does Zulu Company work perfectly well without Shadowveil? According to my ARC readers, yes, it does.
Does Shadowveil provide a richer, deeper understanding of the world and its people? Absolutely.

Now, I know some of my devoted readers are going to point out: “But H.S., Operation Forgotten Spire doesn’t have a companion novella.”You’re almost right. It actually does have one. That novella just hasn’t been published yet. The novella Before the Spire is already written. It’s the story that sits closest to our current world, which is exactly why I’m being extra careful with it. Before I release it, I want to make sure any cultural or political elements serve as a thoughtful critique rather than something that might unintentionally hurt people.

At its best, dystopian fiction should make readers think, not just vent about current events

Companion novellas let me expand the world and honor important side stories without weakening the focus of the main novels. They’re optional, but for those who want a fuller picture, they add real value.

Thank you for being here and for your continued support as I build this world one piece at a time. It means a great deal to me.

See you next Wednesday — take care out there.

H.S. Harding

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us—hello, truly. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.

Putting a new book out into the world is absolutely terrifying. There’s this constant tug-of-war in my head: What if nobody reads it?
And the even scarier flip side: What if somebody does?

The old advice is “don’t read the reviews.” But every review—good or bad—feels like a precious window into how readers are experiencing the story I poured so much of myself into.

So of course, I peek. When the early ARC reviews started coming in, I held my breath. Then I read them… and I let that breath out in a big, relieved smile. People are really enjoying Zulu Company. Some of the feedback has been genuinely kind and thoughtful. It’s still sinking in.

Writing in this space is a unique challenge. Military dystopian thrillers for adults aren’t exactly flooding the market right now. The big hits tend to be either classic Cold War-style stories (think Orwell or Huxley) or wildly popular YA series like The Hunger Games and Divergent. I’m over here trying to craft grounded, adult-oriented dystopian fiction with real military flavor, moral complexity, and no chosen-one tropes. It feels a little unconventional.

So when readers pick it up and actually like it? That gives me real hope. Every single reader who takes a chance on Operation Forgotten Spire or the upcoming Zulu Company means more to me than I can properly express. Whether you leave a review, tell a friend, or just quietly read and move on—you’re helping a small indie author keep chasing these stories.

I’m excited. Nervous. Grateful. All of it at once.Thank you for being here with me on this journey, week after week. Your support makes the scary parts feel a lot less lonely.Zulu Company is coming soon.

I can’t wait for you to meet the new characters… and see what fresh trouble they find themselves in.See you next Wednesday—take care out there

H.S. Harding

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us—hello, truly. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.

First, I apologize for being a day late this week. State testing at the school where I teach completely drained my time and energy. But I’m here now, and I really appreciate you still showing up too.

Today, I want to talk about one of the hardest necessities in fiction: killing off a character. A good story runs on conflict. Without it, nothing meaningful happens. And while not every tale needs death, in the kind of dystopian military thrillers I write, some characters simply don’t get to survive. The story demands it.

I never want to kill them. Especially the ones readers grow to love. But the more important the character, the greater the impact their death creates. The stakes feel real. The loss hurts. And that pain makes the eventual payoff so much more powerful.

In the Forgotten Spire series, I’ve had to kill off characters that fans (and I) became genuinely attached to. One death was so rough that even my editor joked there should be an apology note at the beginning of the chapter. It never gets easier.

There are still moments when I’m writing later scenes and think, “Man, this would be so much better if they were still here.” But their absence forces me to get creative. It pushes the remaining characters (and me) to grow in ways we wouldn’t have otherwise. In a strange way, it honors the character’s memory by letting their loss matter. And I won’t lie… I’ve shed real tears over some of them. When you’ve lived with these people inside your head for months or years, they start to feel like friends. Saying goodbye permanently is harder than I ever expected it would be.

Writing isn’t just intellectual. It’s deeply emotional. Sometimes you have to break your own heart a little to tell the story the way it needs to be told.

Thank you for being here with me as I navigate all these messy, vulnerable parts of the process. Your support makes even the hard Wednesdays feel worthwhile.

I’ll see you next week (on time, I promise). Take care out there.

H.S. Harding

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us, hello. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.

Writer’s block. Just saying the words out loud can make some authors break into a cold sweat. The looming deadline, the blank page staring back at you, the feeling that the words are right there… just out of reach. You can’t sleep. You can’t eat. Some people describe it as worse than death.

I’ll be honest with you, I’ve never really had what people call “writer’s block.”And from talking to a lot of other authors, it seems I’m not alone. Not saying it doesn’t exist, I’m sure it does for some people, but I think it’s far less common than the panic stories make it sound.

For me, there are simply good writing days and bad writing days. Some days, the words flow easily. Other days, I have to sit there, grind it out, and fight for every sentence. I don’t call the hard days “block.” They’re just… hard days.

What does trip me up is something else entirely: ADHD. I’ll be halfway through a story, deep in the zone, when my brain suddenly lights up with a brand-new, shiny idea. A countdown timer starts in my head—if you don’t write this down in the next ten minutes, the idea will vanish forever. So I’ll happily spend the next hour outlining an entirely new book while my current work-in-progress sits there looking at me like a neglected, jilted girlfriend.

Deadlines? As an independent author, they’re all self-imposed. If I miss one, I feel bad for about five minutes, then just quietly set a new one. No angry editor emails. No panicked publisher calls. Just me, my guilt, and another reset.

So no, writer’s block isn’t really my problem. Managing procrastination and an ADHD brain that chases every bright new idea like a squirrel on espresso? That’s a completely different topic… and probably deserves its own post someday.

If you struggle with writer’s block, I see you. If you’re like me and your biggest enemy is shiny new ideas and self-inflicted distractions, I see you too. We’re all just trying to get the stories out of our heads and onto the page, one messy day at a time.

Thank you for sticking with me through these Wednesday posts. Knowing you’re out there reading makes it a little easier to sit down and keep going — even on the hard days.

See you next week. Take care out there.

H.S. Harding

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us—hello, truly. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.
Authors are readers first, and I was no exception. I started reading young, and by the time I hit junior high, I was already devouring Stephen King and Sidney Sheldon. Gotta love Gen X parenting, someone apparently decided it was perfectly fine for early teens to read Flowers in the Attic. We survived.
As a reader, certain books sink deep into your bones and quietly shape the way you write. For me, the ones that left the strongest mark are the classic Cold War-era dystopian novels.
Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World was my first real taste of the dystopian sci-fi genre. That subtle, razor-sharp sarcasm of his is something I still admire, even if I’ve never quite been able to match it. (And honestly, I’m not sure I want to. I like my sarcasm a little louder.)
Then came George Orwell’s 1984. That one hit me with the psychological weight of dystopia. The way authority can twist minds, rewrite truth, and control people from the inside out… It’s terrifying in the best way. You can see Orwell’s influence pretty clearly in Zulu Company and Shadowveil.
As my own understanding of writing grew, Ray Bradbury became a new favorite. Fahrenheit 451 looks deceptively straightforward on the surface, but the subtext underneath it is devastating. It still blows my mind how much power a “simple” story can carry.
More recently, Terry Mancour’s Spellmonger series opened my eyes in a different direction. It’s not as polished as the classics, but it’s a rich, history-rooted fantasy that showed me what’s possible when you step outside traditional publishing norms. It gave me permission to tell big stories my own way.
These books didn’t just entertain me, they taught me. They shaped how I think about world-building, psychological tension, subtext, and the courage to write what the story demands rather than what the market expects.
If you haven’t read them, I genuinely recommend giving any of them a try. And if you do pick up Operation Forgotten Spire, I think you’ll spot little shades of each of these influences hiding between the lines.
Thank you for letting me share these pieces of my writing heart with you, week after week. It means more than you know.
See you next Wednesday—take care out there.
H.S. Harding

Welcome back, friends. And if you’re just joining us—hello, truly. I hope you’ll hang around for a while.
I never expected to fall in love with writing military thrillers. In fact, I actively avoided them at first. The genre feels so overdone, so packed with the same tropes and hardened heroes. I wanted something fresh, something different. But here I am—completely hooked. Turns out, military thrillers are just plain fun to write.
The challenge is that the real military is a proud, serious institution with its own culture, traditions, and rhythms. And as any veteran will tell you, the old saying is painfully accurate: war is long stretches of crushing boredom interrupted by about five minutes of sheer terror. That makes for a very honest book… but a very boring one.
So yes, I take creative liberties. Quite a few of them, actually. I try my best to honor the spirit of military life—the discipline, the camaraderie, the weight of responsibility, the dark humor—but the actual procedures, missions, and day-to-day details in Forgotten Spire are heavily fictionalized. I bend, stretch, and sometimes flat-out invent things to keep the story moving and the tension high.
Most of my “research” comes from my own time in the National Guard, mixed with endless hours of reading, watching interviews, and asking careful questions. Then I embellish. A lot.
To all my veteran friends and readers who might pick up Zulu Company: please know this comes from a place of deep respect, not disrespect. I’m not trying to write a documentary or a training manual. I’m just trying to tell a story that feels exciting while still carrying the weight and feel of real service. If I get something wrong or take too many liberties, I’m sorry in advance. My goal is never to mock or misrepresent—just to entertain and maybe, in some small way, honor the people who actually live that life.
Writing this genre has been equal parts humbling and exhilarating. It forces me to balance accuracy with storytelling, respect with excitement, and reality with the kind of drama that keeps pages turning late into the night.
If you’re a veteran reading this, thank you for your service. If you’re a civilian who enjoys these kinds of stories, I hope the heart behind the fiction still comes through.
Thank you for walking this messy, wonderful writing journey with me, one Wednesday at a time. Your support means more than I can say. See you next week, take care out there.
H.S. Harding