July 2026

Dear ,

I really thought I lost the magic.

The Devil Knows Her Name comes out in just over a month, my second book under contract is with my editor, and for the past few months, I’ve been working on my third and fourth book. My goal with Books Three and Four was to come up with ideas that were high-concept, easy to sell, ideas that would lend themselves to summaries and elevator pitches, because I’ve never done that. The Devil Knows Her Name resists all attempts to distill it into bite-size pieces, and the pitch for The Walking Tree (working title) was no picnic either. I touted this approach to myself as working on my weaknesses.

And so I started brainstorming. I focused on those pitches. I asked my (incredible, amazing, wise, insightful) agent siblings for help. Gone were the days of writing a story and then figuring out how to pitch it, I told myself.

I wasn’t excited about a single idea I came up with.

They were, I think, very solid ideas. They fit my criteria, so I was working on them. I told myself my lack of excitement was due to the Specter of Publishing Pressure and that if I wanted to do this as a career, I couldn’t afford to be excited about every little thing. I patted myself on the back for my realistic and down-to-earth approach.

One morning, I spent an hour on an outline and was quite happy with what I’d come up with. See? I told myself. You can find things to be pleased about. You don’t have to be obsessed with it. And then I took a break and opened Instagram, as one does, despite all recommendations to the contrary.

They say comparison is the thief of joy, but sometimes I think that bitch is a blessing in disguise, come to remind us what brought us joy in the first place.

The first post in my feed was from another writer talking about their work in progress, and seeing it absolutely pulverized the meager satisfaction I’d felt with my current project. It wasn’t imposter syndrome, and it wasn’t even envy — it wasn’t that I wanted their idea. It was the simple recognition that I wanted to read that story, and I couldn’t say the same about any of my ideas. It had something mine did not.

It had magic. Not some intangible quality or romantic notion, but actual magic within the story itself.

In focusing purely on ideas that were high-concept and easy to pitch, I’d completely lost the magic that made me love writing The Devil Knows Her Name, and made early readers love reading it. My new ideas had “supernatural aspects,” elements of folklore, but those pieces were anomalous, not soaked into the weave of the characters’ lives. All of my favorite books have that soft, lived-in magic — The Winternight Trilogy by Katherine Arden, Honeysuckle by Bar Fridman-Tell, The Bog Wife by Kay Chronister, The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. I came to horror through fantasy, and when I wrote The Devil Knows Her Name, I didn’t set out to write a horror story, but a magic one. That was what made me write it. That is my mother tongue.

So I put aside the “high-concept” pitches. I stopped asking what would sell and instead asked what I wanted to read.

That ideas that came then had not just more magic, but more horror. Suddenly, I’m excited again, obsessed again. Suddenly I have a story that hums in my brain at all hours, while I run, while I do the dishes, while I walk the dogs, instead of one I drop like a heavy weight at the end of a writing session and don’t think about again until the next one.

Perhaps you’re reading this and thinking, Don’t you know yourself at all? How could you be so unaware of what you actually want to write? That’s a fair question, because it seems perfectly clear now that I’m through the briar patch.

The answer, I think, is that I was simply too focused on my flaws. That makes my skin crawl just a little, because I firmly believe it’s good to be aware of your flaws, and to work on them. The notion that I should’ve meaningfully appreciated some aspect of my craft or given some credence to what I enjoy is kind of gag-worthy. But if I had done that, instead of treating self-castigation as a virtue, maybe I could’ve skipped a couple months of uninspired outlining, wondering if I’d lost the magic before my career even started.

I can’t wait for the book I’m working on now to someday be in your hands, but in the meantime, I’d love to know…

What do your favorite books have in common? What themes or elements keep you coming back for more? Hit reply and let me know what always earns a space on your shelf!

News and Events

In case you missed it, the preorder campaign for The Devil Knows Her Name / Fawn was announced in June! If you preorder from Act 4 Books, you’ll receive a signed first edition, plus an exclusive watercolor print of Tess and her fawn by Dory Whynot and a personal note from me.

If you’re local, you have the option to pick the book up at the store and save yourself the cost of shipping, or RSVP to the launch event to get your book signed in person (you’ll still get a print, of course). If you’re not in the area, make sure you select the option with shipping!

If you’ve preordered anywhere outside of the U.S., or you preordered within the U.S. prior to this email going out, please fill out this short form and I’ll send you the preorder bonuses personally!

The full art will be revealed soon, but here’s an in-progress photo from the incredible artist herself…

On the press front, Ginger Nuts of Horror gave Fawn / TDKHN a truly incredible review, interviewed me, and made a suggested reading list if you’re someone who enjoys stories where women cease to be prey. Jim from GNOH is truly lovely and thoughtful and wrote the best interview questions I’ve ever seen.

July Reads, Seeds, and Needs

A selection of books, articles, plants, seeds, art, movies, TV, and other miscellanea I’ve been enjoying since the last newsletter:

📕 Curdle Creek by Yvonne Battle-Felton: A deeply eerie and strange folk horror that gave me no easy answers — I’m still thinking about it weeks later.

🌱 Wild quinine: I grabbed one of these at a native plant sale and I wish I’d gotten more — a pollinator powerhouse that thrives in my sun-blasted side garden.

📺 House of the Dragon: Sorry not sorry, but I’m a sucker for dragons and Daemon. One of the only prestige TV shows that still feels like prestige TV.

📰 The French aristocrat and the all-American idiot: I’ve hated Alexei Lalas for more than a decade and you should hate him, too.

📕 The Death Row Club by V.A. Vazquez: I’m delighted to have V.A. as my conversation partner for my own launch, and I can’t wait for her debut this upcoming week!

And now, a question for you, dear reader. I find I’m struggling to keep up with a short story every month, and based on the response to them so far, I’m on the fence about continuing them at all. So…

A Moment in the Grass

Bookstore dates with friends, the aforementioned wild quinine, and a good boy enjoying the weather.

Until next time,

-C