Writing a Soul-Stealing, Scythe-Swinging Supernatural Series as a Coping Mechanism: 10/10 Would Recommend (Maybe)

Once upon a Kindle Vella, I set out to write a story about a girl who could see and speak to ghosts. It was supposed to be a fun, eerie little murder mystery—nothing too fancy. But as grief cracked open my world, After Realm cracked open with it.

What started as a side project spiraled into a full-blown reanimation. New title. New plot. New purpose. It went from “eh, maybe this’ll be cute” to “this story won’t let go until I finish it, or it finishes me.” Spoiler: We both made it out (barely).

After Realm became my outlet for everything I couldn’t say aloud. Grief, guilt, ghosts of every kind. Loneliness too, yeah—but the kind I chose. Writing is a solitary gig. What I really wanted was to create someone fierce. Flawed. Unapologetically her. Bailey’s not just messy and mouthy—though let’s be honest, she could teach a masterclass in both—she’s also someone living with invisible scars. And I needed that to mean something.

I’ve got friends who’ve suffered traumatic brain injuries. Hell, probably more than one—comes with the territory in my world. I wanted to explore that, to destigmatize it. To give it a raw, authentic voice, and still somehow hers. If I did even a sliver of that justice, then it was worth every rewrite, every late-night spiral, every whispered “just one more chapter” that turned into six.

Yes, there are ghosts.

Yes, there’s a legendary scythe.

Yes, there’s a reaper with cheekbones sharp enough to cut reality in half.

But more than anything, After Realm is about surviving what should’ve broken you.

It’s about finding yourself again—in ruins, shadows, love, and fury.

And listen, I won’t lie. Writing this book WRECKED me. Some days, the words felt like pulling glass from my rib cage. Other days? They poured out like fire—cleansing and wild. And weirdly, beautifully, healing. There’s something about creating a world where the dead can talk back, where reapers can be redeemed, where love doesn’t always mean letting go… sometimes it means holding on just long enough to save someone else.

That’s what After Realm is, at its core. A love letter to grief. A middle finger to helplessness. And a reminder that we’re all haunted in our own ways—but we get to choose what haunts us.

But mostly? I wrote this because I had to. Because it kept me breathing. Because the story asked,

What if your pain wasn’t the end? What if it was the beginning of something powerful?

To which I say: 10/10 would recommend.

Also, you might want to prep your emotional support snacks and keep a backup blanket nearby—for screaming, sobbing, or both.

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