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The Big Idea: Samantha Mills

Posted on April 22, 2026    Posted by Athena Scalzi      Leave a Comment

Family ties aren’t always a prettily done bow, sometimes they’re fraught with fraying ends and tricky knots, all woven together in the branches of family trees. Love ’em or hate ’em, everyone’s got parents, and everyone’s relationships with them are vastly different. Nebula Award-winning author Samantha Mills explores these varied relationships in her newest collection of short stories, Rabbit Test and Other Stories.

SAMANTHA MILLS:
Assembling a short story collection is an exercise in self-reflection. Material written over the course of years is placed side-by-side for the first time. Themes emerge. Preoccupations become clear. Where one story can be read in isolation and stand on its own terms, a collection can’t help but blare its author’s recurring fixations.
If there is one big fixation recurring throughout Rabbit Test and Other Stories, it is parenthood—specifically, the many ways that parent-child relationships buttress, cast shadows over, and intersect with so many other aspects of our lives.

Nearly every story here includes parents (usually mothers) and/or children (usually daughters). Frequently, this relationship is ruptured. Someone is missing, or dead, or dragged away by forces beyond their control. In “Strange Waters,” a fisherwoman is lost in time, struggling to get home to her children. In “Spindles,” a young fairytale princess has been separated from her mother during an alien invasion, and is struggling to make it to their rendezvous point before being captured. The settings change, the anxiety remains. What if, what if?

Parent/child separation is not something I keep writing about on purpose, but it’s a worry I can’t shake. When my first baby was born and then immediately whisked away for a 3-day stay in the NICU, I felt fear like nothing I had ever experienced before. I looked at that tiny face and felt the weight of the generations stretching behind me, the future spiraling uncertainly ahead of me, and I thought: oh no. I’m going to be scared for the rest of my life.

Weirdly, this was what leveled up my writing, though I didn’t realize it right away. About six months after giving birth, after years of fits and starts, I finally figured out how to craft a proper short story. The immensity and clarity of those new mom emotions were what tipped me over the line from knowing how to write a pretty sentence to knowing what I wanted to say.

Having kids forced me to think more deeply about my own childhood, both what I wanted to carry forward from it and what I wanted to leave behind. I was looking forward and backward at the same time—and god, I was so sleep-deprived! It was in this fevered state that I began to think about society generationally in a way I hadn’t before, reflecting on the ways that traditions or traumas (or traumatic traditions) are passed down from one generation to the next.

That tension—being caught between generations and deciding what, if anything, to do differently—surfaces in several of these stories. In “Rabbit Test,” the main character is prevented from getting an abortion by her parents; later, she has an opportunity to give her own daughter the choice she didn’t have. In “The Limits of Magic,” a repressive patriarchal state is passed down in the nursery by women who never saw a way out for themselves, and a new mother can’t bear to follow in their footsteps. In “A Shadow Is a Memory of a Ghost,” a pair of nemesis witches have to face the fact that, in trying to avoid the harms of their father, they’ve hurt their own children in entirely new ways.

There are good parents, here, too (the aforementioned fisherwoman; the fairytale queen; a tightknit family surviving in a mining colony company town in space), but even they make mistakes, because who doesn’t? What keeps drawing me back to this topic is the sheer variety of possible perspectives. I could write a thousand more stories and still not feel I’ve adequately conveyed the many facets of this experience. We do not all become parents, but we’ve all been children. We all spent our formative years utterly dependent on the adults in our lives—some up to the task, some not. It’s a bond that can be a comfort and joy for the rest of one’s life, or a fragile, fraught connection, or a disaster to be worked out in therapy for years to come, and whether we like it or not, this affects how we see ourselves and how we move through the world.

Now, don’t get me started on siblings.

Rabbit Test: Amazon|Barnes & Noble|Bookshop|Powell’s

Author socials: Website|Bluesky|Instagram

The Big Idea: Christian Bieck

Posted on April 21, 2026    Posted by Athena Scalzi      2 Comments

Just because something is created with a younger audience in mind, doesn’t mean it can’t be enjoyed by all. After all, whomst among us doesn’t love the idea of magic cats? Author Christian Bieck is here today to show us the result of his NaNoWriMo creation, A Basquet of Cats.

CHRISTIAN BIECK:

At some point early in their writing journey, every writer learns that a good way to start a story is by having an interesting what-if. So one day a few years ago I asked my family, “What if cats had magic?”

“That’s not a what-if,” our son said. He’s a walking encyclopedia, and generally knows what he’s talking about. “Cats do have magic. They can turn invisible.”

“Mrt?” Rex, our ginger tabby, said from behind me.

I turned to him; he was sitting on the back rest of the sofa. “Where did you suddenly come from?” I asked.

“And they have short-range teleportation abilities,” my wife said. 

“And some mind magic,” our son said.

Rex said nothing, but his smug look clearly told me I should have known that.

“I did know that,” I said to him. “So what do I do now?”

I’m going at this Big Idea essay all wrong, aren’t I? Let’s try again:

It all started with a family game of Microscope.

For the less nerdy among this blog’s readers, Microscope is a cooperative world-building/setting-creation game. Players create a fictional timeline, and then events and people within that timeline to any depth desired. Afterwards, you can jump in and roleplay a scene.

We set the game in an alternate Earth medieval France. And the “people” to cats—cats that have even more magic than our real-world ones. Our main character was the friend, companion, familiar, however you call it, of a human mage, the Archmage of France and Spain. (Mages obviously also existed at the time.) Other mages were visiting his tower with their own cat companions, and something happened to them: the first event. Now the cats had to find out what had happened. Murder mystery with cats!

We spent a pleasurable afternoon fleshing out the story, as it was, ending up with a stack of index cards, but without an answer to the question what happened to the mages. Didn’t matter, it was fun. That was in December 2019.

Fast forward to late October 2021. An online article reminded me of the annual writing event called National Novel Writing Month, a.k.a. NaNoWriMo, and on the spur of the moment, I decided to take up the challenge and restart my fiction writing after a ten year break. My first NaNo attempt in 2009 had been successful in that I did finish a novel, but less so in terms of quality of output. So around 2011, I had decided to put fiction writing on hiatus and focus on improving my craft through the non-fiction writing I was doing in my day job.

So, what to write for Nano 2021? What if I used that Microscope game as a basis for my novel? What if, on top of their normal, natural magic, there were special cats with special skills? With mind-based magic, a magic that was quite different from that of human mages. And a mind-to-mind connection to said humans. And what if something happens to the main character’s mage, and the protagonist and his friends have to set it right?

I couldn’t find the index cards from the game anymore, but I didn’t really need them. I had my main characters and the inciting incident in my head; the beats in 3 disaster structure were quickly sketched out, and the story of A Basquet of Cats practically wrote itself. With the active help of Rex, and our female gray tabby Neko, who helpfully provided dialogue. (Have you ever had that thing where you look at the companion animals living with you, and comic-style speech bubbles pop up over their head, telling you exactly what they would be saying in that moment? No? I am sure John knows exactly what I mean . . .)

Okay, maybe “wrote itself” is a bit of an exaggeration, because even for a fantasy novel you need a (to naive me) surprising amount of research if your setting is alternate history Earth. What time exactly? (13th century, when Aquitaine was English.) How does the magic work? (No spoilers, just that Basque is the human language of magic, and “Abracadabra” in Basque is “Horrela izango da!”) How close to real cats are my cats? (Close. But they are cats, and that has consequences for the way they see the world. And how they behave. And communicate. And, and, and.) Do other animals feature? (Yes! But the PoVs are all cats!)

And then there was the question: for what audience was I writing Basquet? A story with animal protagonists feels like a kids’ book, so that was my starting point. I ended up writing a story that I would have wanted to read as a teenager, and be happy to re-read at any point later in life: an adventure story, a story of friendship, of responsibility, and of learning to value the good things in life and in relationships. My publisher calls it “For young adults and animal lovers of all ages”, and he’s exactly right.

I dream that Rex and Neko would also read and be pleased with the story.

(Full disclosure: I made up that dialogue at the beginning. But it could totally have happened that way; after all, real-life cats do have magic. Don’t they?) 

A Basquet of Cats: Amazon US|Barnes & Noble|Bookshop|Powell’s 

Author socials: Website|Bluesky|Linktree

Read an excerpt.

The Big Idea: Dan Rice

Posted on April 20, 2026    Posted by Athena Scalzi

When we explore our minds, our thoughts, and who we are as a person, we don’t always like what we find. Author Dan Rice takes a deep dive into the idea of accepting one’s true self, even if some facets are uglier than others. Grab a mirror for some self-reflection and follow along in the Big Idea for his newest novel, The Bane of Dragons.

DAN RICE:

Sometimes you have to go down the rabbit hole.

The challenge I faced when writing The Bane of Dragons was to send Allison on an adventure with a climax that ended her story and the series with a bang instead of a fizzle. Luckily, Allison had rabbit holes to go down, one that she had explored many times before and another she had only ever gazed upon.

The rabbit hole Allison spends much time spelunking is her inner self. In those dark tunnels she wrestled with, negotiated with, and sometimes was defeated by her literal internal monster that always pined for escape and to supplant her. This device provides ample ongoing conflict throughout the series after the monster wakes up in the first book, Dragons Walk Among Us. Allison’s titanic clashes with her inner monster, which she comes to understand is another facet of herself, mirrors the struggles young adults face as they pass from adolescence to adulthood, albeit in dramatic and often bloody fashion.

The other rabbit hole Allison must explore is the slipstream, described as a superhighway through the multiverse. Since encountering this pathway to alternate dimensions in the first book, she has dreamed of traveling it, and, while both sleeping and awake, has been commanded by a stentorian voice to enter the slipstream. It is something she both yearns for and fears. In The Bane of Dragons, it’s a yearning she must give in to and a fear she must face. The only way to protect everyone she loves is to travel the slipstream and discover exactly what’s waiting for her on the other side.

What Allison and her motley companions discover are strange worlds and monstrous aliens. They are captured by angry, terrestrial octopi, whom they attempt to negotiate with, with nebulous results. Instead of taking the fight to the monsters threatening Earth, Allison is handed over as a prisoner to her nemesis, General Bane. But not all is what it seems on the surface, and even the deadly General Bane, with whom Allison shares a kinship by way of her inner monster, is a prisoner of sorts, pining for freedom.

To free Bane and hopefully protect everyone she loves, Allison must finally come to ultimate terms with her inner monster. In the end, that means looking into the mirror and accepting herself, both the human and the monster with its fangs and claws and transgressive desires. Only by becoming one with her monster can she communicate to Bane and others like him how to break the bonds that hold them.

Just like in real life, young adult characters sometimes need to go down the rabbit holes, both those that spark curiosity and those that cause dread. It’s the only way to learn, mature, and find self-acceptance.

—-

The Bane of Dragons: Amazon|Barnes & Noble|Books-A-Million

Author socials: Website|Facebook

The Big Idea: Mallory Kass

Posted on April 17, 2026    Posted by Athena Scalzi      3 Comments

The words “stress-free” and “wedding” aren’t seen in a sentence together unless the word “not” preludes them. The copious amount of stress and issues surrounding weddings fascinated author Mallory Kass, and she began to ask the question of why people do this to themselves. In her exploration of such answers, she wrote her newest rom-com novel, Save the Date. RSVP your invite to her Big Idea, and bring a plus one.

MALLORY KASS:

Why do weddings cause temporary insanity in otherwise rational people? Take a look around you. See that woman reading Middlemarch on the subway, the one who just smilingly offered her seat to an elderly man? In ten minutes, she’s going to text her sister, “Maddie’s dress is giving whore-of-honor instead of maid-of-honor.” Then there’s your affable co-worker, Brad, famous for his pivot tables. Over the weekend, he told his daughter that if he can’t invite all nineteen members of his pickleball league, he’s not paying for her wedding. 

What turns these celebrations of love into referendums on our taste, friendships, finances, and even our bodies? That’s one of the questions I wanted to explore in Save The Date, a romantic comedy-of-manners about a lavish wedding in Maine that goes very, very wrong. Because it’s not just the bride and groom whose emotions go haywire in the lead up to marital bliss. Guests participate in their own small but significant melodramas: they navigate the fraught politics of the plus-one, take desperate measures to squeeze into a special outfit, and scour social media to see if one’s ex might show up with a date. 

I’ve had plenty of opportunities to ponder these questions. I attended more than twenty weddings solo before I met my husband. There were times when I was literally the only single guest. Once, my friend’s very kind, very drunk mother shouted to a large crowd, “Who’s going to walk Mallory back to the hotel? She’s ALL ALONE!” 

I generally enjoyed myself at these events, especially while dancing with friends, shouting the lyrics to cheesy pop hits from our childhood. But at some point, the band would inevitably transition to a slow song and everyone would drift towards their dates like magnets, leaving me to scurry off the dance floor. That’s when I’d refill my drink and take refuge in a shadowy corner where I could observe the spectacle unnoticed. I’d clock the bride’s single sister’s slightly-too wide-smile and slightly-too-short dress. I’d eavesdrop on conversations criticizing the décor, the food, and the bridesmaids’ botched Botox. I’d note the panic on men’s faces as their girlfriends pronounced what they’d do differently at their receptions. And I’d wonder why weddings push everything to the limit, from our relationships to our budgets—and in the case of my breakdancing cousin-in-law—our kneecaps. 

And so, Save the Date was born—the product of my champagne-induced melancholia, fascination with social dynamics, and worshipful reverence for movies like My Best Friend’s Wedding, Father of the Bride, and Four Weddings and a Funeral. It follows the bride, Marigold, who’s not sure if she’s marrying Jonathan for love or to prove that she’s loveable; Natalie, her maid-of-honor, who’s terrified to admit to herself—let alone anyone else—that she still pines for Jonathan, and Marigold’s older sister Olivia, who’s always cleaned up Marigold’s messes and may have finally had enough this time.

The central challenge was making each woman’s observations feel honest and specific to them. I knew if I wasn’t careful, my complicated feelings about weddings would come through at a higher volume than those of my characters. I had to ensure my social anxiety didn’t seep into “It Girl” Marigold, or that my thoughts on the excesses of late-stage capitalism didn’t bias Olivia the corporate lawyer. (I channeled those into Olivia’s love interest, Zack.) And I had to let poor Natalie make mistakes that I (hope) I’d never make myself. 

Almost as difficult was painting an entertaining yet passably realistic portrait of Marigold’s rarefied world, one full of yachts I’ve never sailed on and private jets I’ve never boarded. Like Natalie, though, I spent hours tutoring the children of Manhattan’s .00001 percent in apartment buildings with heavier security than many embassies, and townhouses with multiple Picassos. I’ve witnessed how that level of wealth warps anyone’s conception of reality, which made it the perfect backdrop for the disastrous wedding that brings out the very best and the very worst in my characters. 

I’m not sure Save the Date fully answers the questions that inspired it, but I had a lot of fun examining them. And I hope you have a blast reading it whether you’re coupled-up, navigating the perils of online dating, stuck in a situationship, or relishing your singlehood. I’ve been there, and I’m raising a glass to you in solidarity! 

Save The Date: Amazon|Barnes and Noble|Bookshop|The Ripped Bodice

Author’s socials: Instagram

The Big Idea: Cameron Johnston

Posted on April 16, 2026    Posted by Athena Scalzi      4 Comments

The Scientific Method is immensely helpful, but so is literal magic. Would the power of science prove to be more powerful than the power of wizardry? It’s tough to say, but author Cameron Johnston certainly speculates on the idea in the Big Idea for his newest novel, First Mage on the Moon. Read on to see how the Space Race might’ve happened with the help of a wizard’s staff.

CAMERON JOHNSTON:

For a bunch of wise folk that meddle with reality and break the rules of standard physics on a regular basis, wizards and mages in fantasy media seem a remarkably uncurious lot. Sometimes magic users are far more interested in other dimensions and eldritch creatures than in the mortal world they themselves inhabit. How many of them look up at the stars and wonder what they are, or gaze at the moon and ponder what that shining silver disc really is…and how they might get there?

First Mage On The Moon was born from a single Big Idea (OK, OK…the idle thought of a fantasy-fan): Without science, how would wizards describe gravity? Inevitably, that grew arms and legs and tentacles and thingamabobs into: What would they make of outer space? How would they breathe in a spacecraft when they don’t even know what oxygen is or why air ‘goes bad’. What about aerodynamics? and a whole host of other questions I didn’t then have answers for. When you only have a magical understanding of the world and the closest thing to science is the semi-mystical and secretive practice of alchemy, well, then things get complicated if you want to build something to visit the moon. Magic is not going to solve everything if you fly straight up and try to hit a moving object like the moon, and don’t factor in the calculations for orbits, gravity… or indeed the speed/friction of re-entry.

Science is an amazing and collaborative process and Earth’s 20th-century Space Race was a species-defining moment, but what if that happened in a fantasy world of mages, golems, vat-grown killing machines and grinding warfare. What if a group of downtrodden mages sick of building weapons of mass destruction for their oligarch overlords decided to go rogue and divert war materials into building a vessel to go to the moon, the home of their gods, and ask for divine intervention in stopping the war. When you have no culture of shared science, where do you even begin? 

All those thoughts and ideas stewed away in the back of my brain while I was writing my previous novel, The Last Shield. As all authors know, there comes a stage of writing a book when your brain goes “Ooh, look at the shiny new thing!” Very helpful, brain, coming up with magical rocket ships when I’m trying to write a book set in a fantasy version of the Scottish Bronze Age – thanks very much! That idea of wizard-science and magical engineering lodged there, immovable, and my next book just had to become First Mage On The Moon. Which was handy, as I was contracted to write another standalone novel.

While the US/USSR Space Race and modern science of our very own Earth was inevitably a huge influence on my novel, so too were the theories and writing of its ancient thinkers. Around 500 BCE, Pythagoras proposed a spherical world, and Aristotle later wrote several arguments for the same theory, such as ships sailing over the horizon disappearing hull-first and different constellations being visible at different latitudes (all of which may have given the Phoenician sailors and navigators certain thoughts too). And then comes Eratosthenes, Chief Librarian of Alexandria, and a very smart dude who was able to calculate the circumference of Earth by using two sticks in two locations and comparing the angles of their shadows. If those ancient Earth scholars could calculate such things, then surely fantasy mages, with all the magic at their disposal, could do more than fling fireballs at each other. There had to be some among them with the desire to explore beyond the bounds of myth and magic, gods and monsters, and given the opportunity to work with like-minds to build something that has never been done before, they would surely take it…despite the risks.

Found family, magical engineering, and mad ideas of actual science in a magical world all came together to form First Mage On The Moon. As much as I love my morally grey characters in realms of swords and sorcery, it was deeply satisfying to write something that little bit different, a hopeful story about human ingenuity in an increasingly fraught world. 

First Mage On The Moon: Amazon|Amazon UK|Barnes & Noble|Bookshop|Powell’s|Waterstones

Author socials: Website|Bluesky|Facebook|Instagram

The Big Idea: A.Z. Rozkillis

Posted on April 15, 2026    Posted by Athena Scalzi      1 Comment

When there’s a million and one paths in front of you, how do you know which decision to make? What if you don’t even have control over which one you end up on? Author A. Z. Rozkillis explores the idea of every decision we make, or don’t make, sending us on different paths throughout multiple realities. Journey on through the Big Idea for her newest novel, Fractal Terminus.

A. Z. ROZKILLIS:

In an infinite universe there are infinite possibilities. It’s a concept that has enamored me for decades, has led me into a career focused on space exploration and has fueled my endless love of science fiction. And that is probably why it is the Big Idea behind Fractal Terminus. 

When I intentionally ended my first book, Space Station X, on a cliffhanger, I never truly intended to write a sequel. I liked the idea of leaving the speculation up to the reader about could possibly happen after an event like that. More to the point, I didn’t think I deserved to be the person to establish, canonically, what the future would hold for my main characters. But nature abhors a vacuum, and the same could be said for the space between my ears. So, I figured if I don’t want to write one follow-on outcome, and if I preferred the idea that any possibility could be canon, then why don’t I write a book where I do just that? Where I explore numerous possible outcomes from one, singularly massive event. 

Fractal Terminus really digs down into the idea that with every flip of a coin, with every path chosen, with very outcome realized, there exists a separate universe (or infinite separate universes) in which the an alternate outcome could occur. I know it’s not a new idea, its just one I have felt, personally, immensely drawn to. The universe is so unfathomably endless, with there being no way for us to truly understand how vast it is. I feel that it is entirely plausible that somewhere, at the far reaches, there exists a reality in which I chose to study animal husbandry and not aerospace engineering. Or maybe I decided to eat that questionable leftover sushi rather than pitching it when I found it at the back of the fridge. Who knows? If the universe has no limit, then maybe every single possible reality is just wrapped around us.

For my characters, their personal universe is expanding too. My first book had a very narrow focus by design, because I had a main character who had reduced her whole universe down to the same five concentric metal rings of her space station. Jax refused to consider possibilities outside of that limited existence until she was forced to. Then she swallowed her pride and took the leap of faith on her feelings for Saunders. It could have gone either way, but canonically it worked out for Jax. Then they took a different plunge. Now Jax and Saunders are suddenly flung into a situation where they have to expand their view, because new experiences have that habit of broadening your perspective.  This Space Station is no longer a cramped, desolate and lonely existence, but a cramped, desolate and overcrowded experience, where Jax has to dust off her social skills and mingle in order to survive.  And as she lets her universe expand around her to include the souls locked in fate along side her, infinitely more universe opportunities unfurl. 

Some of these are fates she realizes she can control. She can see where her actions can lead her and Saunders and she can tell when it might not be the best path. But more often than not, Jax and Saunders are at the mercy of the universe itself. Nature is a cold and uncaring master, and sometimes the coin flip is not even remotely something anyone can control.

We face these moments every day. Will this person I am talking to be an ally? Will they be my demise? Will I regret this interaction or not? Is there, even remotely, anything I could have done to change this outcome? There isn’t really a way for anyone to know, so you might as well take the chance. As the universe is expanding rapidly on a macro scale, we are, all of us, every day, making small decisions that expand our microcosm just as rapidly.  Jax and Saunders expand their view on life to include the lives around them, while the universe expands to encompass every possible, even far-fetched idea of an outcome that could ever be considered. And that’s the big idea. The universe can you send you on an infinite number of outcomes, and you’ll never know which one you are in. So you are just going to have to take it on faith that you are on the right track. 

Fractal Terminus: Barnes & Noble|Bookshop|Space Wizards

Author socials: Website|Bluesky|Instagram

The Big Idea: Eleanor Lerman

Posted on April 10, 2026    Posted by Athena Scalzi      2 Comments

Pets are more than just roommates we feed and scoop poop for, they’re often a source of emotional support and comfort in our complicated, lengthy lives. Author Eleanor Lerman explores the bond between furry friends and humans in her newest collection of short stories, King the Wonder Dog and Other Stories. Whether your cat is in your lap or on your keyboard, give them a pet as you read along in the Big Idea.

ELEANOR LERMAN:

Having just completed a book of poetry in which much of the work examined the concept of grief about a lost parent (and offered the idea that even Godzilla might be lonely for his mother), I was thinking about what I might write next when I saw a tv commercial that featured a group of older women. They were all beautifully dressed, had expensive haircuts that made gray hair seem like a lifestyle choice, and were laughing their way through a meal on the outdoor terrace of a restaurant. I won’t mention the product being advertised, but they discussed how happy their all were to be using it and to have the love and support of their charming older women friends, who used it too. This is one version of aging in our culture: cheerful, financially secure, medically safeguarded, and surrounded by supportive friends. In this version, the body cooperates, the future is manageable, and loneliness is nowhere in sight.

That’s one way older women—and men—are portrayed in our culture: happy as the proverbial clam and aging with painless bodies and lots of money to pay for the medical care they will likely never need. In literary fiction, however, aging men and women are often depicted in a very different setting: traveling alone through a grim country, with broken hearts and aching bodies until we leave them at the end of their stories hoping—though not entirely believing—that we will avoid such a fate ourselves.

So, what I decided to do in King the Wonder Dog and Other Stories, was to explore what is perhaps a middle ground by writing about both women and men living alone who are growing older and are confounded by what is happening to them. They still feel like their younger selves but are aware that their bodies are changing, that the possibility of once again finding love in their lives is unlikely and that loneliness has begun to haunt them like an aging ghost.

Having had pets in my life for many years—and being aware that animals, too, can feel loneliness and fear—I paired each man and woman in my stories with a lonely dog or cat and tried to work out how that relationship would ease the sadness in both their lives. One memory I drew on was how, when I was young and living alone, I had a little cat that someone had found in the street and gave to me. I had never had a pet before (other than a parakeet, which didn’t give me much to go on) and this little cat was very shy, so I didn’t quite know how to relate to her. But somehow, bit by bit, she cozied up to me, and when I was writing, she was always with me, sitting on my lap or on my feet.

I have no idea how animals conceptualize themselves and their lives, but I do know they have feelings and I hope that for the eighteen years she and I lived together, my cat felt safe and cared for. And still, today, I sometimes think about the unlikely sequence of events that brought us together: how a random person found a tiny kitten, all alone, crouched behind a garbage can, and how that random person was sort of friends with a sort of friend of mine who happened to tell me about the kitten and asked if I knew anyone who would take her and I said yes: me. I don’t know why I said yes, but I’m glad I did. Her name, by the way, was simply Gray Cat, which probably shows how unsure I was about whether I would be able to care for her well enough to at least keep her alive.

After that, I was never without a cat or dog, and now I usually have both. The little dog I have now is a sweet, happy friend who seems not to have a care in the world, but I often see her sitting on the back of my couch, staring out the window at the ocean not far beyond my window and I wonder what she thinks about what she sees. What is that vast, shifting landscape to her? And who am I? A friend who pets her and feeds her and gives her those wonderful treats she loves? Maybe she was frightened when she was separated from her mother but otherwise, I think she is having a happy life—at least I hope so. And sometimes when I walk her, I think about what will happen when she’s no longer with me and I’m even older than I am now. Could I get another dog? I have painful issues with my back that sometimes make it hard for me to walk and I certainly can’t walk any great distance—could I maybe get a dog that doesn’t need to walk too far or somehow shares my disability?

All these thoughts have gone into the stories in King the Wonder Dog, in which men and women are growing older, have illnesses, are frightened by how lonely they feel, and in one way or another—and often to their surprise—are able to bond with a dog or cat who is also in a tenuous situation. And through that bond, the people and the animals find at least a little bit of happiness in their lives, a little bit of the shared comfort that arises from one creature caring for another. I hope those who read the book will feel some of that comfort, too.

King the Wonder Dog and Other Stories: Amazon|Barnes & Noble|Books-A-Million|Bookshop

Author socials: Website|Facebook

The Big Idea: Justin Feinstein

Posted on April 9, 2026    Posted by Athena Scalzi      1 Comment

What are stories but information laid out before the reader? What if that information was conveyed through multi-media formats and told through emails, newsletters, and other digital means of communication? Author Justin Feinstein has brought us something truly unique in his new novel, Your Behavior Will Be Monitored. See how he twists traditional storytelling methods in his Big Idea.

JUSTIN FEINSTEIN:

I didn’t set out to write a novel told through “found” digital files; it happened organically.

My debut novel, Your Behavior Will Be Monitored is comprised of chat transcripts, emails, TED Talks, error messages, and other digital detritus from a near-future AI company. But it wasn’t the result of some grand epistolary vision – I just started writing a chat between an aging, jaded copywriter (i.e., me) and a hyper-intelligent bot he had been hired to teach the nuances of advertising. I didn’t even know what I was writing, maybe a script?

As the dialogue evolved beyond consumer motivation and taglines, and into larger issues like sentience and purpose, I realized I had a larger story on my hands. Other characters (both human and bot) emerged, as well as other file formats. Every time I added a new element, it would offer its own unique opportunities for character and plot development.

For many months I toggled between writing and tinkering with a posterboard covered with Post-it notes, color-coded for different file types. The modularity of the format lent itself well to this process, which is a normal step for screenwriters and one that, as I learned, can provide much structural value to a novelist. It also helped keep me engaged on days that the blank page felt too daunting. I’d move a note from here to there, or add a new one and notice how it would affect the story. Even in revision, long after I’d dismantled the posterboard, I was still shuffling sections around to play with the chronology and build tension or sustain momentum.

It’s worth noting that while Your Behavior Will Be Monitored is my debut novel, I’ve written both another novel and a memoir, neither of which I was able to sell. For those books, I just started writing and kept going until they were done. So, both the process of writing this book and the format itself were foreign to me, and a big departure from how I’d worked in the past (and seemingly an improvement).

As a result of this newfound process, I became hyper aware of the order of information, its consequences for characters, and how it could guide the reader. For example, a mundane error message might not hold much weight early in a story, but the same error message in a later spot could bring significant narrative impact, due to the built-up context.

It was also fun to explore the tonal potential of these different formats. As anyone who has ever worked for a large corporation knows, company-wide emails are often saturated with an everything-is-fine and nothing-bad-is-happening perkiness that borders on the maniacal. Writing them made the company in my novel, Uniview (“The most trusted name in AI”), feel like a character itself. Since the story is linear, I was able to use weekly all-company emails (aka, The Weekly View) as a summation of what was happening, or at least the way UniView wanted to “spin” it. This added a layer of depth to the narrative, since both company employees and readers of the book knew the reality behind the spin.

Once I had a draft that I felt good about, I shared it with my wife, Julia Fierro (founder and director of the Sackett Street Writers’ Workshop, and a damn good editor). I was hoping for some validation and slightly worried that I had created a Beautiful Mind-esque monster that only made sense to me. Fortunately, Julia was impressed and in awe that I had managed to write a book with no exposition or character interiority (i.e., thoughts) – a fact I was somehow only loosely aware of. It wasn’t that I had intentionally avoided it, just that it didn’t fit within the structure I had stumbled into.

That said, I did leverage little tricks to provide context where needed. If a character was entering a physical environment for the first time, they could comment on it or interact with it – like how the copywriter in my book, Noah, bumps his head when getting in a car and jokes about his lankiness, or how he later notes that the AI lab looks like a Swedish furniture showroom. He also has a call early on with his therapist, which is a helpful narrative vehicle for getting to the heart of a character’s fears and desires.

But Julia’s main note for me was that the video surveillance “scenes” in the book felt flat with only dialogue and made them nearly identical to the MP3s/audio recordings. It was a great note, and one I sat with for a while. She was right, but breaking the structure and format of the book for only one file type (i.e., by adding descriptions of what was happening) just felt wrong.

Eventually I landed on not just a solution, but what would become a key component of the book. The head of HR at UniView is a bot, Lex, who handles nearly all aspects of the employees’ lives, well beyond their work. The company champions a symbiotic relationship in which its bots monitor all aspects of employee behavior (hence the book’s title) and tailor their AI offerings accordingly. So, I was able to pepper the video scenes with “behavioral notes” from Lex, which served the double duty of describing gesture and movement in scenes, while simultaneously characterizing her through reactions and commentary. And even though she “doesn’t make mistakes,” the few moments where she struggles to interpret sarcasm or nuanced behavior are some of my favorite in the book.

I don’t know that I’ll ever write a solely digital file-based book like Your Behavior Will Be Monitored again, although I’ll probably keep working with mixed media/epistolary formats. But I can say that playing with Post-it notes is officially part of my process now.

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