A great antagonist isn’t a cartoon villain twirling a mustache—they’re someone who truly believes they’re right. The most compelling conflicts come when your villain’s goals clash with your hero’s in ways that feel uncomfortably relatable.
One of the perks of writing thrillers is getting to torture characters. Jacobine makes me work harder—she’s deadly, clever, and never blinks. Billings, though, is convinced he’s in control…until the floor drops. Who’s more fun to torment: the nun with a gun, or the cocky spook?
Every scene in your novel has to earn its keep. If it doesn’t shift a value, reveal character, or drive the plot forward, it’s nothing more than wallpaper—and readers don’t show up for wallpaper. Learn the three tests that will keep your story moving and your readers hooked.
Remember when back-to-school meant fresh pencils, leaky lunchbox thermoses, and polyester outfits instead of Chromebooks and checkout lines? In the 1970s, September was pure chaos and excitement—and we wouldn’t trade it for today’s tech.
Passive voice sneaks into even the sharpest manuscripts, draining life out of your prose and leaving it limp as wet cardboard. Learn how to spot the culprits—“was eaten,” “were taken,” and those sneaky “by” phrases—and flip them into strong, active sentences that keep readers hooked.
Mark’s got three thrilling projects fighting for attention in his brain—another Jacobine adventure, a high-octane Billings sequel, or a brand-new season of Credible Threat. He’s throwing the decision to readers: which story should he dive into next?
Stories without time pressure tend to meander. Add a deadline—a ticking clock—and suddenly characters have to act, risk, and choose. From thrillers to romances, nothing raises tension faster than running out of time.
Mark’s desk is overflowing with thrillers, Jacobine adventures, anthology deadlines, and even a dash of erotica. Add in a Kickstarter campaign, real-world book selling, and you’ve got the “good kind of busy.” Coffee recommended.
If you’ve ever had a critique partner or an editor ask, “Wait, whose head are we in right now?” — congratulations. You’ve run into a POV problem.
Last week, I watched The Life of Chuck — twice. I’d already read the book, so I knew what was coming. But having just survived colon cancer and stared death in the face, the film landed differently for me. It stirred up all kinds of thoughts about what I’ve done with my life… and what I still want to do.
