There’s a particular kind of story I’ve always loved – the kind that moves fast, makes you laugh unexpectedly, and sneaks in something true when you least expect it. Stories that are a little weird, a little dark, and full of characters who don’t always say the right thing but somehow still find their way to doing the right thing (eventually). Add a touch of magic, a few bruises, and maybe an explosion or two, and I’m hooked.
That’s the kind of story I’m writing now, about Mojo Mack.
It’s urban fantasy – the pulp kind. Meaning: it’s gritty, funny, magical, and completely uninterested in taking itself too seriously. But it also knows when to slow down, when to hit a nerve, and when to let a moment breathe.
Think: street-level chaos meets meaningful character arcs.
Think: sword fights next to vending machines.
Think: wisecracks, wounds, and weirdness – all in one package.
And yes, I know “urban fantasy pulp” isn’t what gets picked for book clubs or awards. That’s okay. This isn’t that kind of book.
This is the kind of book I needed when I was younger. And maybe, more honestly, it’s the kind of book I still need. Especially now.
Who It’s For
My sense is that a lot of people feel caught between irony and apathy, between wanting to care deeply and not knowing how to show it or if it’s even appropriate to try.
This is a story where you can be messy and still heroic. Where you can be funny and still be taken seriously. Where you can screw up and still come back from it.
That’s what I’m offering. With magic.
Why Magic?
Someone in my writing group asked me recently: “Do you really need the fantasy element? Couldn’t this just be a straight mystery?”
Sure. It could be. But then it wouldn’t be this story.
Magic gives me permission to exaggerate, to explode things, to reach into metaphor and pull something real out of it. It gives my characters room to fight monsters that aren’t just symbolic – even though they also, totally are. It lets me make the internal external. That’s the beauty of fantasy.
Plus: and this matters – it’s fun. I want to laugh while I write. I want my readers to laugh while they read. I want to enjoy myself, even when I’m writing about heavy things. Maybe especially then.
Because we’re all carrying enough weight as it is.
I can’t fix everything.
But I can tell a damn fine story. Spin a good yarn.
One that says: You’re not crazy for feeling lost. You’re not alone for wanting something more. And yes, you can still be the kind of person you hope to become – even if it’s messy getting there.
That’s what pulp is good for. Beneath the snark and blood and flying debris, there’s a heart. There’s a beat that says, “Keep going. You’re not done yet.”
So What Comes Next?
I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep laughing out loud while I do. And when this book is done, I hope it finds the people it’s meant to find – a specific kind of reader. Funny ones. Smart ones. Magical ones. With bite.
Thanks for being here.
If this sounds like your kind of thing – or like something someone you care about might enjoy – stick around. More to come soon.
