I’m agnostic — but all my books revolve around gods.
It sounds like a contradiction, doesn’t it? Yet, that tension is exactly what makes writing in this space so fascinating to me.
If you’ve read my stories, you’ve probably noticed that religion plays a major role. There’s a pantheon known as The Family, and while the focus is usually on mortal characters, they’re constantly pushed into action by their squabbling gods. Think Greek god levels of drama—but with strict divine rules that prevent them from acting too directly on earth.
Technically, that means I write religious dark fantasy. But most of the time, I just say dark fantasy so people don’t assume I write Christian fantasy, which is a common misconception.
The Perspective of an Agnostic
I’m not religious. I’m agnostic—open to the possibility of gods, but unconvinced either way.
So why does someone like me write stories centered around spirituality?
Simply put: it fascinates me.
I was raised just a little bit Methodist. We didn’t go to church, but I had a children’s Bible and was baptized. When I was around thirteen, I became curious about faith. I read the gospels and borrowed library books on Buddhism, Judaism, Taoism, and even the supernatural—anything that explored unseen forces people spoke about with absolute certainty.
That phase didn’t last long, but it left me with a lasting appreciation for the power of belief.
People can do extraordinary good or terrible harm in the name of faith. They can believe something so deeply that they’d die for it—without ever seeing proof. That’s incredible to me.
The Magic of Belief
During that same curious phase, I stumbled upon claims of telekinesis—moving objects with the mind, bending spoons, that sort of thing. My youthful experiments didn’t work, but the idea enchanted me: that belief could have a measurable effect on the physical world.
Years later, when I began writing seriously, that fascination returned.
I decided to finally tell a story I’d been carrying with me since high school—about a warrior nun who fakes her death and sets out to protect others from her villainous father.
To make that story work, I needed a world and a magic system that made sense. And I kept coming back to that old question:
If belief could shape perception, what happens if enough people believe in the same thing?
In my world, the answer was simple—the gods become real.
The Dark Side of Faith
But humanity has a long history of needing someone—or something—to blame when the chips are down.
When things go wrong, we look for scapegoats. Across cultures, that blame might fall on a devil, a single hated individual, or even another cultural group. So why wouldn’t the people in my stories do the same?
In my world, there’s a goddess of murder, and it’s easy for mortals to blame her for every act of violence, every monster, every nightmare. But here’s the catch: their belief shapes her reality.
Because mortals believe she governs murder and fear, she’s forced to take on those domains. She becomes the vessel of their collective guilt and terror.
So I asked myself:
- How would she feel about that?
- How would her divine family treat her?
- And what might she do if she had centuries to plan her revenge?
Those questions became the foundation for The Family, and Sister Moon—one of my favorite creations—was born.
Faith, Fiction, and Friendship
As if fate wanted to keep the theme alive, one of my closest friends is now an Anglican priest. Their insights, compassion, and theological knowledge have given me even more perspective on the many faces of faith—both beautiful and terrible.
So yes, I’m an agnostic. But I love writing about gods, belief, and the chaos they inspire.
That blend of divine drama and mortal consequence has become one of the most praised parts of my work.
If you’re intrigued by divine catfights, flawed gods, and mortals caught in the crossfire, you might enjoy The Ghost of Midormere and my other books—you can find them here.
Closing Thoughts
For me, writing religious dark fantasy isn’t about preaching or proselytizing—it’s about exploring the power of belief itself. Belief can move nations, define morality, and destroy empires. It can create gods. And sometimes, it can even redeem them.
Maybe that’s what keeps me writing—the search for meaning in the spaces between faith and doubt.
Until next time, happy reading!