The Creative Code I Live By

I’ve always been a storyteller — I just didn’t realize it until the universe grabbed me by the shoulders a few years ago and went, “Ma’am, look at your life choices.”

If something happened to me, everyone within a five-mile radius was going to hear about it. With props. With reenactments. With the kind of sound effects usually reserved for action movie trailers. The dramatic recap of that one time I accidentally told the Dunkin’ Donuts cashier “I love you” after she told me to have a good day? Same energy as the “I broke my arm while it was already in a cast” saga.

And before you ask: no, I’ve never taken a theater class. Not officially. My life is the theater.

I just love dragging people into my little adventures — whether they agreed… or I just decided on their behalf.

Now that I’ve written a number of stories across multiple genres, pseudonyms, and questionable caffeine-fueled decisions, a pattern has emerged. Certain pillars, compass points, guiding stars — the things that tell me yes, this is an Indigo Winter (or J.P. White or Jade Black) story.

Not rules, exactly. More like the creative code tattooed on my writer-soul.

Diversity — Everywhere, In Every Direction

In race, in body, in culture, in ability, in faith, in queerness, in accent, in hairstyle, in chaos levels, in beverage choices. If humans have done it, lived it, shaped it, or survived it, then baby, I want it in my worlds.

People say it’s cliché to want to see yourself reflected in the stories you read. I say it’s only cliché because we didn’t have it for so long. So in my stories? Expect big casts. Wide casts. Vibrant casts.

That said, diversity to me is not a checklist. My characters tell me who they are — I don’t slap identities on them like questionable stickers to fill a quota. If a character presents a part of themselves, I honor that. I research. I respect. I listen.

One day, I’ll write everything on the list. But only when the characters arrive ready to live it.

Equal Power — No Damsels, No Caped Saviors

My relationships are partnerships. Romantic, platonic, legendary, chaotic — whatever form they take, everyone stands on equal ground.

The “woman waiting to be saved” vibe? Hard pass. The “man who thinks he’s the hero of everyone’s story” energy? They may show up, but only to get humbled.

Does that mean my characters can’t need each other? Of course not. They have flaws. They have struggles. They have emotional blind spots large enough to parallel-park a spaceship in. But needing someone isn’t the same as being less than someone.

And yes, sometimes a character may find themselves in an unhealthy dynamic that they need to escape — I play with that in Obsidian Throne. But the story will always bend toward balance, respect, and growth.

Found Family — The Trope That Owns My Whole Heart

Look. I love a good romance. I love political intrigue. I love sword fights, spellcasting, spaceship battles, morally gray nonsense, and dramatic balcony scenes.

But found family? That’s my GOAT.

The pure, chaotic joy of choosing your people — the ones who understand the weird little corners of your soul? That’s my empire. That’s my religion. That’s my emotional support donut.

Speaking of donuts: sometimes found family means going toe-to-toe with an evil emperor.

Sometimes it means being the evil emperor because Steve ate the last donut even though he already had one.

Found family hits different when pastries are involved.

Chaos With a Plan — Otherwise Known as My Writing Method

Am I a plotter? Yes. Am I a pantser? Also yes. I am the Schrödinger’s cat of writing methods.

Here’s how it works: I plan until I feel safe, then I write until the plan files a complaint. I know the major beats — the beginning, the midpoint meltdown, the grand finale. I know my protagonists, antagonists, the side characters, and the neighborhood raccoon with opinions.

But the rest? The personality quirks, the unexpected heartbreaks, the “oops they’re kissing now” moments? Those reveal themselves on the page.

Why? Because I write in deep POV. I climb inside these characters’ heads like an uninvited roommate, eat their emotional snacks, and follow them into questionable decisions.

Sometimes I get too deep in the sauce and momentarily forget I am not a well-trained space pilot with four degrees in combat diplomacy, which means I cannot challenge strangers in public to settle their nonsense outside.

The universe has tried to remind me of this. Many times.

I am… learning.

Character Chemistry — The Secret Ingredient to Everything

My characters have to feel real to me. Real-real. If they don't spark, clash, banter, brood, annoy, adore, or otherwise ignite each other, I know something’s missing.

Romantic chemistry? Essential.

Platonic chemistry? Equally essential.

Rivalry chemistry that makes readers throw the book, stomp in circles, and come back for more? Peak cinema.

To me, a story isn’t just a plot. It’s a constellation. Each character is a star, and the lines you draw between them create the shape you follow through the dark.

Authentic Emotion > Plot Convenience, Every Time

If I have to choose between:

• a plot that’s neat or

• a character who feels human

I will always choose the messier, truer option.

If a character wouldn’t make a certain choice, I won’t force them to. I will rip out chapters, rework arcs, start entire sections over. I have broken my outline so many times it has trust issues.

Real people are messy. They make terrible decisions for heartbreakingly human reasons. And so do my characters.

Because at the end of the day, I’m not just building worlds. I’m building people.

So That’s the Code

My compass. My anchor. My creative North Star constellation.

It’s not the whole map — creativity is way too feral to stay inside a neat bullet list — but it’s the foundation. The candlelit corner where every new story sits down, grabs a mug, and says, “Alright, let’s cause problems on purpose.”

What about you? Do you have a creative code — whether you’re a writer, an artist, a dreamer, or just a human trying to navigate the beautiful chaos of existence?

Pull up a chair. Drop a comment. Let’s compare maps.

Until next time,

Indigo