Before bikinis were scandalous, one Australian woman shocked the world in a sleek, form-fitting swimsuit. Annette Kellerman wasn’t just a swimmer—she was a pioneer, stuntwoman, film star, and the inspiration behind Adelaide Becket’s most indecent moment. Dive into the real story that helped shape The Indecent Agent.
Fairies aren’t small, sweet, or safe. In modern fantasy, the Fae are terrifying, full-sized, and operating on their own brutal logic. From Charlaine Harris to Holly Black, this post explores the sharp-toothed truth behind the folklore—and why I prefer my fairies dangerous.
Most authors aren’t confused about how traditional and indie publishing work. They’re confused because they’re emotionally attached to what they want those systems to be. In 2026, choosing between trad, indie, or anything resembling “hybrid” isn’t about legitimacy or dreams of a writing career. It’s about understanding which system you’re willing to depend on — corporations behaving well, or yourself. This is the part nobody says out loud.
After 35 years, On Spec magazine is closing its doors—a loss not just for Canadian science fiction, but for the speculative fiction world at large. Based in Edmonton, On Spec championed stories with a uniquely Canadian voice and offered a home for emerging and established writers alike. Its final issue, The Final Voyage, marks the end of an era and raises the ever-relevant question: is this just another case of magazine churn, or a sign of the times?
You may have noticed more Kickstarter campaigns coming from Stories Rule Press lately—and that’s intentional. For us, Kickstarter isn’t about hype or pressure; it’s about collaboration. It lets us create special editions, fund higher-quality production, and work directly with readers who want to be part of a book’s journey from idea to finished story—without replacing traditional releases or forcing anyone down a single path.
Readers don’t actually hate cliffhangers.
They hate being cheated.
What they’re reacting to isn’t tension or anticipation—it’s a broken promise. An ending that withholds resolution, slices a single story into artificial chunks, or stops mid-thought without delivering what the book itself set up isn’t a cliffhanger at all. It’s a contract breach.
A real cliffhanger resolves the story you promised to tell—and then opens the door to the next problem. It creates momentum, not confusion. When done right, the reader doesn’t feel tricked. They feel hooked.
There are two kinds of readers in the world.
The kind who says, “Just one more chapter,” and resurfaces hours later dehydrated and emotionally compromised.
And the kind who prefers the slow burn—one episode a week, time to speculate, time to argue, time to savor.
The internet insists one of these is correct.
They’re wrong.
This isn’t a format war. It’s a control issue—and Credible Threat is about to give both camps exactly what they want.
Power without a price feels like cheating—and in fantasy, magic that costs nothing tends to mean nothing. Whether it’s burning memories, painful transformations, or the slow hollowing of a hero, the best magic systems leave a mark. Let’s talk about why magic should hurt—and what that says about the stories we can’t stop reading.
If Part I was the brutal, unsentimental comparison of trad vs indie — advantages, disadvantages, and the cold math of each — then Part II shifts gears completely. Part II dives into what modern indie publishing actually looks like in 2026, because most writers still imagine the 2013 version: KU gold rushes, cheap ads, write-to-market hamster wheels, and algorithmic rituals. That world is gone. Today’s indie career is a full business model built on direct sales, diversified income, long-tail backlist revenue, platform resilience, and storytelling that can’t be replicated by AI. If you don’t understand this version of indie, you can’t choose your publishing path intelligently — and Part II lays it out without sentimentality, delusion, or nostalgia.
Barnes & Noble has begun quietly removing books from its digital shelves — not because readers don’t want them, but because the retailer wants a “cleaner,” more curated catalog. Overnight, titles vanish. Algorithms shift. Indie books get harder to find.
It’s the same old pattern: as big platforms age, they tighten the gates. The long tail shrinks. Choice narrows. And readers lose access to entire backlists, series, and genres without even realizing it’s happening.
The good news? You’re not trapped in anyone’s walled garden. Buying direct from authors keeps your books permanent, DRM-free, and untouched by corporate inventory purges — no disappearing titles, no algorithmic roulette.
