Hello, friends! Happy August!

If life had gone according to plan, I would currently be in the UK revising my gothic horror set in the remote English countryside. But instead I am writing to you amongst a mountain of moving boxes in a house with barely any furniture. While still very much in Portland, Oregon.

I have no complaints though (well, maybe one or two because I really wanted to go back to the UK), as my partner and I made the decision that was best for our family. Moreover, once I got over moping about canceling our plane tickets, I threw myself 100% into our next goal: buying a house!

And so here I am in an empty room I plan on converting into my dream library. Throughout the entire process, I was waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder and go, “Excuse me, aren’t you too poor and too immature to do such an adult thing as purchase real estate?” And I fear I would have shriveled up into a ball and cried, “Yes, of course, you’re right!”

But nobody did, so here I am in a house that I somehow own.

A few months ago, I mentioned to my agent that my current WIP is trying to murder me in as slow and tortuous a way as possible. Instead of laughing it off and patting me on the back and sending me on my way, she asked, “Why? What is it about this project that you’re struggling with?”

“The main character hates me!” I protested.

In the time since—as I set aside my draft to work on other projects—I’ve been noodling on this problem, and I realized it was less about my character hating me than it was me not understanding her. And kind of being afraid to. Because I made the mistake (?) of inventing her too much in my own image, I fear. I gave her my vulnerabilities, my flaws, my fears about how others see me. And it’s hard staring back at myself on the page and actually liking what I see.

One of the most regurgitated pieces of writing advice is to write what you know—and while characters are works of fiction, there’s usually something in them that is rooted in the reality their author knows. And so, just to torture myself, I thought I’d dive into each of my main characters—and wonder why the hell I made them the messed up ways they are and if they might be an indication of whether I need therapy—and take you along for the ride.

Perhaps by the end of it, my characters will scare me a little less…

Josephine, The Wives of Herrick Hall

The Wives of Herrick Hall was originally going to be a screenplay. I was a film student at USC at the time, and the head of our program (a well respected producer of many a Hollywood classic) taught only one class during the entire two years. And the class was simply just sitting in the theater and watching a movie together.

There was one big lesson this producer wanted us to take from his class: if you want to make art that speaks to people, you need to make the art that only you can make. And somehow, I ended that year with the idea of a girl who falls in love with another girl while being haunted by ghosts.

Which, on the surface, is not at all me.

I never could get Herrick Hall right as a screenplay because I couldn’t get Josephine down on the page without getting inside her head in the ways the visual language of screenwriting would decry. I pivoted it to a novel because I had randomly decided that New Year’s that I would write a book this year, and well, here was a fully formed idea that would not leave me alone.

Writing from Josephine’s first person perspective freed the story. But while I wrote Herrick Hall from my love of gothic novels like Jane Eyre and Rebecca, I can’t claim an intimate knowledge of ghosts or isolated manors in the remote English countryside (and oh, how my trip would have helped me here!).

Even as a character, my protagonist Josephine is unlike me in almost every way. But I think she was easy to write because she is the type of person I kind of desperately want to be. She is sure of herself. She refuses to be ashamed of herself. And she’ll challenge even the supernatural to get her happy ending (but will she??).

Growing up, I consumed historical romances and gothic horror novels like breathing. However, when I discovered I was queer, I suddenly didn’t quite fit into the stories I loved so much. So I wrote Josephine and her story for me—to fill that void, where girls can dance, fall in love, and fend off ghosts together.

And quick marketing plug: you can get to know Josephine and read The Wives of Herrick Hall when it comes to haunt your bookshelf (and e-readers) in May 2026!

Bronte (& Marlowe), Tyrant Spell

When my partner first read my YA debut, Tyrant Spell, the first thing he asked me was, “Bronte Cade is you, isn’t she?”

I didn’t consciously put myself into my protagonist Bronte. I thought her imposter syndrome, her need to prove herself, her complicated family relationships were all her own flaws I conjured from the ether. But then I realized oh shit, no, that is me…

Without giving too much away, Bronte is a non-magical person who grew up with magic all around her. She tells herself she’s fine with her averageness, so used to carrying the weight of that baggage that she doesn’t notice it at all anymore.

I wouldn’t say my baggage is as heavy as Bronte’s, but I am no stranger to imposter syndrome. I remember wanting to be good at something when I was a kid. I shuffled through different career aspirations hoping something would magically spark in me. I marveled and tried to discern how my family could be so effortlessly funny while I needed 3-5 business days to make one joke. I watched both my siblings surpass me academically—and in a Chinese American family, ouch, that one stings! Like Bronte, I felt like the average person in an exceptional family.

My life isn’t filled with as much murder as Bronte’s thankfully, but like her, I constantly feel the need to prove myself—but to whom, I don’t really know anymore. Maybe if I’m thrown into a murder investigation too, I’ll figure it out?

Because Bronte is too much like me, I created Tyrant Spell’s other main character, Marlowe, to be the kind of person I aspire to be. They don’t let the world tell them who they can be (my middle child people pleasing inner self could never!). They embrace their gender identity and sexuality with a confidence I wish my teenage self could have had. And while they also feel disconnected from their Chinese heritage, they know their identity cannot be taken and determined by other people.

I wish I could be more like Marlowe, but I did the next best thing and gave them to Bronte to lovingly infuriate and fiercely protect. 🖤

Exciting things are in the works for Bronte & Marlowe, so stay tuned! 👀

Hellie, SleepwalkingWIP

Oh, Hellie, my problem child. I wrote about putting parts of myself into Hellie in a previous newsletter, back before I really understood the difficulties of confronting yourself every time you open your word doc.

For context, SleepwalkingWIP is set in the 1930s and follows Hellie, a biracial con artist, who tricks her way down the aisle with a wealthy widower to escape the ravages of the Great Depression. She’s used to curating her appearance and passing as white for others’ consumption, but now her stability and safety depend on her husband never discovering the truth.

As I wrote in my previous newsletter, this book is about the inner psychological turmoil of being in a biracial body and existing within the intersection of identities. I recognize that as a half-Chinese/half-white individual, I carry certain privileges that others do not. However, it often feels like a war is being waged inside me, which only compounds my imposter syndrome. I am simultaneously not Chinese enough for some, nor white enough for others. (In college, someone told me I barely looked Asian to count, while another person told me I looked “exotic” while he went on about how he loved Asian women, while another time a heckler shouted at me to go back to my country—so there’s a good heaping of cognitive dissonance for you.)

This internal strife is what drives Hellie as she confronts the strange happenings of her new home and tries to keep her mask on before her husband. And sometimes seeing the parts of you that are messy and you haven’t entirely figured out makes you second guess every single thing about your book (hence the current predicament I am in). It’s hard to give Hellie my flaws and insecurities without presenting her solution I don’t have, but here I am, trying anyway.

Between deadlines the rest of the year, I’ll be picking away at this problem and trying to love her warts and all (because they are my warts, so I kinda have to if I don’t want to spiral).

[Fun fact about Hellie: I named her after my Chinese grandma, Helen, before realizing I’d be writing several spicy scenes with her. When this hit home, I immediately had everyone start calling her by her nickname instead 😂 So if you’re thinking of naming a character after a family member, think about it harder than I did.]

Thank you for going on this character journey with me! I am so looking forward to sharing Josephine’s and Bronte’s stories with you—and even Hellie’s, once I figure it out.

In the meantime, I hope you have a marvelous rest of your summers! Stay cool, eat good food, and make some great memories ❤️

Until next time,

-Julie