Be a Storyteller Not a Preacher

Photo by Malcolm Lightbody on Unsplash

NOTE: The following is a revised version of an article originally published on Medium, where I’ve published a number of writing advice pieces.

How many times have you been drawn into a gripping plot with engaging characters, only to experience a nagging suspicion that the author is wagging their finger at you?

Fiction readers have a sixth sense that detects when they are being preached at. I’ve grown increasingly wary and intolerant of this, even if I agree with the message. Whether an author’s axe-grinding is social, political, or religious in nature, I still react with a weary eye-roll. Perhaps I’m jaded, but even the youngest of readers can’t stand being condescended to, being told what they ought to think, for their own good, on a particular issue.

Littering a novel with characters that act as author mouthpieces, delivering calls to action or “come to Jesus” moments, is a recipe for provoking the opposite reaction in the reader. For example, an earnest anti-war message delivered with consciously po-faced seriousness can become so numbing that the most committed of pacifists will get the urge to start fighting, just to spite the author. Again, it doesn’t matter if you agree with the author’s sentiment. You will feel cheated out of a good story, as though you’ve listened to a long sermon instead.

Before the inevitable cries of protest, rest assured I am not wilfully ignoring the many great novels with powerful, convincing messages. However, the real classics strive first and foremost to be a damn good story, well told. Yes, there are social issues and concerns highlighted in classics like Oliver Twist (Victorian poverty) and To Kill a Mockingbird (racism), but at no point does the reader feel as though they are being preached at. So how did Charles Dickens and Harper Lee achieve their goal?

I believe the answer is simple: they wanted to tell a good story and set aside any conscious agenda. Charles Dickens didn’t write a novel about poverty, he wrote an adventure story about an orphan against a backdrop of poverty. Harper Lee didn’t write a cry against racial prejudice, she wrote a coming-of-age drama about loss of innocence, and a courtroom drama set inside a racist culture. Therefore, what was important to them became inherent in the material.

Disregard your agenda

It might sound counter-intuitive, but attempting to insert a message into your story leads to a novel that is, at best, unconvincing. Designing a narrative around a message results in something even worse: propaganda. As someone who grew up surrounded by evangelical Christian culture, I read many laughably insincere Christian novels, with unconvincing plots about ludicrously sinful protagonists who go on to get saved at evangelistic rallies.

If writing a story about political tyranny, racial injustice, or sexual inequality, whether in a contemporary or historic setting, the temptation is to deliver your strongly held beliefs in an on-the-nose fashion. Resist this temptation. Instead of seeing a cause you care about fighting for, see a story you care about telling well. One of the worst pieces of advice I see doing the rounds in literary circles is to only write when you have something to say. Utter nonsense. Instead of writing to deliver a message to the masses, write to entertain the masses. Simply tell a good story with no conscious agenda whatsoever.

Write in a genre you love

Having decided to write a story with no agenda, the next thing to decide is genre. Choose a genre you love, not a genre that is currently popular, or by self-consciously striving to write ‘literary fiction’. I’ve always considered that an absurd term, because all fiction is literary. Rather than denoting a genre, it instead fences off a section of literature as somehow more elite or important. Snobbery about genre fiction persists, but don’t let that put you off. Choose your genre, and write the compelling, page-turning tale that you would love to read.

Build convincing forces of antagonism

Eschewing a consciously inserted message frees you up to properly explore the antagonist’s perspective, rather than paying it mere lip service. A convincing narrative must contain opposing views to those you are no longer trying to preach, whether social, political, or religious. All good writing emphasises conflict, and as such it pays to build up genuine, convincing arguments for those characters, organisations, political groups, or other forces opposing the protagonist in your novel. However, because you are the author, the interests of your worldview will be inherent in the text, without needing to be stated in dialogue or inner monologue that read like unconvincing, clumsy, patronising editorial asides.

Finally… add humour

An underrated but hugely effective way of ensuring your novel doesn’t sound like a sermon is to add humour wherever possible, regardless of how dark the subject matter might be. Laughter is a part of life and makes everything feel more natural. Even the bleakest of situations contain moments of gallows humour.

Conclusion

If approached this way, when reading back through your novel, you’ll be surprised just how your deeply held beliefs shine, but without any cringe factor. When others read it, you’ll also be surprised at the strongly held beliefs and ideas that worked their way in, without you even realising. I’ve had readers discern many of my strong views — about oppressive religious groups and abuse of power, for example — when reading novels I had intended purely as good entertainment.

The most powerful and important message will reach a receptive audience if it is entertainingly presented. That is why novelists should first and foremost determine not to preach their views, but to write a great story.

New Short Stories Directory

If you click “Short Stories” on the menu, you’ll now find a handy directory of all my published short stories and novellas to date, and where you can read them. These are mostly on Medium, with some syndicated to Substack (more will gradually follow), and a few are exclusives to anthologies available on ebook or in paperback. I plan to add to this list as and when new short stories are published. In the future, I may revise the order or categorise them better, but at this point I rather like how they’re presented.

I enjoy writing short stories and novellas, because they provide a chance to let rip with some of my narrative ideas that don’t warrant fleshing out to novel length. Typically, the short stories are between 10,000 and 15,000 words each, and the novellas are between 15,000 and 25,000 words. I hope you dip in and enjoy what’s there, either on Medium, Substack, or by picking up one of my anthologies, which are themed by genre.

There are a lot of stories (plus others waiting in the wings that I’ve yet to publish), so where to start? Well, here are half a dozen I’m particularly pleased with: For a spine-chilling horror tale involving a ghost ship, check out Vindicta. Or perhaps you fancy a bit of romantic fantasy, in which case try Papercut. For something with a bit of satirical bite, Call the Number on Your Screen involves a televangelist being blackmailed. For sci-fi dystopia, Sweet Dreams concerns a conspiracy involving nanotech nightmare suppressing technology for children. And if you want something outside of traditional genre fiction, why not read Aftermath, about a young woman returning to her estranged mother after leaving a cult. One story quite personal to me is In-Between, a supernatural satire about a recently deceased man harassed by ghostly political campaigners whilst attempting to haunt his family.

For links and other stories, click here to see the full list.

My Principles for Writing Gothic Mysteries

Photo by Shakhawat Shaon from Pexels

The gothic mystery is a much-underrated genre. At their best, they are riveting tales of nail-biting suspense, heart-rending romance, and spine-tingling terror. They are stories that deal in the deepest, darkest areas of human consciousness, presenting complex protagonists with conflicting conscious and subconscious desires. They delve into the uncanny, the psychological, metaphysical, and spiritual, exploring at a primal level what most haunts us, and how love and horror can be two sides of the same coin.

I’m a big fan of gothic mystery novels, both reading and writing them. I’ve had three traditionally published by a small indie publisher, and I’ve self-published a few others. This article is primarily for those who aspire to write in this genre, but I hope it will be inspirational and interesting for everyone. Here then are some of my insights into what makes a great gothic mystery.

Traumatised protagonists

Gothic mysteries almost always feature protagonists with significant past trauma or dark secrets. This baggage has a direct bearing on the narrative, dealing with everything from repressed sexual passions to physical or mental abuse, religious delusions, madness, and supernatural curses (which may or may not be all in the mind). Consider the traumatised Arthur Kipps in Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black, the famously nameless heroine of Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca, the similarly nameless governess in Henry James’s The Turn of the Screw, the passionate Cathy in Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, or the eponymous Jane Eyre in Charlotte Bronte’s classic.

Most of my gothic mystery novels feature imperilled heroines. They are brave and tenacious, but often flawed by an insatiable curiosity. All have trauma and dark secrets in their pasts, that have a direct bearing on the main plot. Their character arcs are often a metaphorical descent into the underworld, entering a labyrinthine mystery culminating in cathartic confrontation of their darkest fears. Depending on the nature and choices of the protagonist, this can lead to triumphant rebirth, or an irreversible spiral into madness and worse.

The outer labyrinth

The protagonist explores the mystery, which invariably involves sinister settings. These can often be gothic locations that hide dark secrets — the mansions in Sarah Waters’s The Little Stranger and Laura Purcell’s The Silent Companions, Thornfield in Jane Eyre, Eel Marsh House in The Woman in Black — but can just as easily be modern. For instance, think of the brutalist architecture used for the Jefferson Institute in Michael Crichton’s superb 1978 film version of Robin Cook’s Coma. In one of my novels, the haunting takes place not in a spooky old house, but a modern office block in central London.

Here it is important to embrace the iconography and formula of the genre. I’ve written elsewhere about being formulaic versus being unpredictable, and with gothic mysteries, it is possible to remix ideas and still keep readers hooked and surprised. My own frequently used tropes include dark broody skies, remote haunted locations, hidden rooms, secret passages, cults or secret societies, witchcraft, ghosts, demons, and a lot of scenes involving my protagonist creeping through dark, maze-like corridors. In gothic mysteries, such imagery is as vital to the genre as hats, horses, and frontier towns in the western.

It is worth adding that when it comes to settings for gothic mysteries, a thorough, dirt-under-the-fingernails knowledge of real locations is often invaluable. I live in southwest England and have been hugely inspired by everything from rugged coastlines to sinister mansions. Having the bleak but beautiful Dartmoor on my doorstep has ensured it turns up in many of my stories, as have local histories I’ve discovered or researched in south and north Devon. One of my novels (The Thistlewood Curse) was even set on Lundy Island, in the Bristol Channel; an island with a fascinating history that informed the narrative.

The inner labyrinth

The inward labyrinth is what makes the gothic mystery even more compelling. As we journey deeper into the darkness of the central mystery, we also journey deeper inside the protagonist. In The Little Stranger, when Dr Faraday looks into the haunted house with which he is obsessed, we are also looking into him. The governess in The Turn of the Screw is another excellent example. Is she really seeing ghosts, or are the apparitions all in her head? Are they the result of religious mania and sexual repression?

The outcome of this inner journey depends on the choices made by the protagonist. Sometimes a protagonist is simply too traumatised by their experience to emerge with anything that can be termed a happy ending. The finale of The Woman in Black is a case in point. In the beginning, Kipps writes as though he has come to terms with what happened to him, but as he recounts his chilling tale, it becomes increasingly apparent that the act of doing so has simply brought all the horror back to the surface, hence this superbly terse prose at the very end:

“They asked for my story. I have told it. Enough.” — Susan Hill, The Woman in Black.

Similarly, my protagonists never emerge from their journeys unscathed, nor do they necessarily live happily ever after. Sometimes they deliberately choose evil. Such endings I refer to as DEA (Doomed Ever After), in flippant allusion to the publishing industry HEA (Happily Ever After) or HFN (Happy For Now) acronyms, frequently used in the romance genre.

Gothic horror versus gothic thriller

The descent into the inner labyrinth is a vital component of the gothic mystery and one that separates it from other kinds of thriller or horror stories. However, sometimes it is difficult to say whether a gothic mystery belongs in the horror or thriller genre. The lines can be blurred.

In the gothic genre, horror and thriller are a sliding scale, and romance can be present in both. For instance, Rebecca is a romantic gothic thriller, whereas Bram Stoker’s Dracula is a romantic gothic horror (or at least, it certainly is in Francis Ford Coppola’s film version). My novels feature examples at both extremes of the scale, with some my notoriously scare-averse mother has been happy to read, and others she wouldn’t touch with a bargepole.

The supernatural spectrum

Similarly, the presence of the supernatural in the gothic can be merely hinted at or accepted outright. The superb ghost stories of MR James deliver malevolent spectral entities at face value, though the great strength of those tales is they are never properly explained, thus leaving the reader to do the spiritual heavy lifting. The Woman in Black is another example where the reader is left in no doubt that a ghost is responsible for the torment and misery in the narrative.

At the other end of the scale, Rebecca isn’t really about a ghost at all in the metaphysical sense, though the influence of the dead character is felt on every page. In that respect, Rebecca is one of the greatest ghost stories ever written, even though it doesn’t actually feature a ghost, per se. Something like The Turn of the Screw falls in the middle of the spectrum, and again, my novels feature stories at both ends.

The terrible secret

Gothic mysteries often conceal a terrible secret. What lies hidden in the attic of Thornfield in Jane Eyre. The tragic truth behind the haunting of Eel Marsh house in The Woman in Black. The real reason Maxim De Winter is so haunted by his first wife in Rebecca. All these big mysteries involve dramatic reveals in their respective narratives.

Rug-pulling twists are a key part of the genre, and they are also present in my novels. Here I want to stress something that goes against advice often given to novelists. Don’t necessarily dial down melodrama in the big reveals. It is all about context, and sometimes the blunt instrument of melodrama is extremely effective when properly earned. Ask yourself honestly: Would Wuthering Heights or Jane Eyre benefit from being less melodramatic?

Conclusion: How to make it personal

Often dismissed as overblown, the gothic mystery is in fact a tremendous canvas for exploring personal stories through metaphor and allegory. The best gothic fiction uses supernatural elements such as curses, ghosts, and demons to cathartically explore genuine psychological trauma. Regardless of how ambiguous or otherwise these elements might be in any given narrative, they are important symbols.

Recurrent themes of my fiction — particularly oppressive religious trauma and abuse of power — finds a natural home in the gothic mystery genre. However, I would advise against consciously inserting these with any kind of preachy agenda. It is better to simply tell a good story with these themes, rather than use your protagonist as a social or political mouthpiece. Your views will be inherent in the material in any case.

(NOTE: This article is a revised version of a piece that originally appeared on Medium.)

New Short Story: Window of the Soul

Photo by Ion Fet on Unsplash

I’ve recently written a new short story; a dark fairy tale entitled Window of the Soul. Well, I say short story, it’s actually closer to novella length, hence why Fictions on Medium are running it in eight instalments over last month and this month. It is also available on Substack, for those of you who subscribe to the paid version of the Dillon Empire on that platform.

Window of the Soul is set in an unnamed land akin to a modern western nation, but with key differences. They exist in a state of civil war between east and west. Into this mix, an adolescent girl finds her very soul in jeopardy, when ocular double-glazing salesmen urge her authoritarian stepfather to replace her eyes with new ones that will protect her from supposedly untoward spiritual influences. I won’t say anything else about the plot but do check out part one here (on Medium) or here (on Substack).

Happy New Year!

Photo by BoliviaInteligente on Unsplash

A very Happy New Year from the Dillon Empire. I hope you are enjoying your holiday. As per New Year’s Day tradition, it’s time to reveal some of my writing plans for 2024.

My top priority is writing my next novel. I spent the second half of 2023 researching, creating character profiles, and outlining my next mystery thriller, tentatively titled False Witness, though I promise that title will change. The plot remains a closely guarded secret at present, but I will say it concerns a female protagonist with a terrible secret in her past. Yes, I know lots of my horror-thriller novels feature imperilled heroines with dark secrets, but this one is darker than I’ve gone before, and involves a particularly intriguing premise, though I say so myself. I’m very excited about writing it and will keep you updated on progress.

I may also release another anthology of short stories this year, though please don’t hold me to it. If I do, it is likely to be a collection of dark fairy tales and fantasy stories, some of which you may already have seen on Medium, Substack, or elsewhere, and some of which I have yet to write. I may include my short story Papercut, which you can download free here, if you’re interested in a sample. I intend to write more short stories this year too, not necessarily just those that will appear in a hypothetical anthology.

Beyond this, I hope to finish another significant chunk of my epic sequel to an as-yet unpublished children’s fantasy novel I wrote ten years ago, tentatively entitled The Faerie Gate (though that title will almost certainly change). This sequel has proved something of a monster to write, proving a hugely ambitious work that I’ve undertaken on and off over the past three years. I’m currently about halfway through, and my modest goal for this year is to get two-thirds of the way through. This story may wind up being split into three separate volumes akin to The Lord of the Rings, but I’m not certain yet. At any rate, given that the first book remains unreleased, this is likely to be a long-term project.

On top of this, I plan to revise and polish A Thorn in Winter, the mystery thriller novel I wrote last year. At the same time, I will keep showcasing The Hobbford Giant to agents and publishers, in the hope of finally cracking that mainstream publication deal. I am not giving up on that front and will keep you informed of all developments.

Perhaps, at the end of 2024, I’ll have achieved all the above. Perhaps not. Either way, as always, watch this space. Thank you so much for your ongoing support of my writing endeavours, and again, I wish you all a Happy New Year.