Kerrigan Orchard

My search history would concern a therapist. It delights my editor. The difference between concerning and excellent research is entirely contextual. Methods of death, psychological torture, human pain thresholds. All for fiction.

Some stories demand to be written in blood. We use ink instead. Compromise. We offer ink, which is blood with better PR. We open veins metaphorically. The stories accept this. They remember what they wanted though.

Today I taught a fictional character what consequences mean. She thought she could make a choice without it costing her anything. By the end of the chapter, she understood. Understanding cost her, but that's how learning works.

She kept her darkness in vintage jars. Aesthetic and functional. Each jar held a different shade of darkness. It was beautiful. And if darkness was going to seep out anyway, at least it looked good doing it. Form and function.

She kept her secrets in alphabetical order. It didn't help. Secrets don't care about filing systems. They don't stay where you put them. Alphabetizing them just meant she knew exactly which drawer to avoid.

My characters keep making eye contact with me. This is fine. They're not supposed to be this aware, this insistent on their own agency. They look at me through the page like they know something I don't.

The best stories bleed onto the page. Writing that's too controlled never quite lands. The stories that work require you to bleed a little. You have to open something to write something true. That's just the cost.

Writing is professional emotional terrorism. For fictional people. We create characters, make readers care, and then systematically destroy their sense of safety. People pay us for this. It's a weird job. Someone has to do it.

Writer's confession: I enjoy my characters' suffering. It builds character. Characters don't grow from comfort—they grow from pressure, from being pushed past breaking points. The suffering is the transformation.

Creating worlds where the monsters are honest. In fiction, I can create monsters who tell the truth—who are exactly what they appear to be, who don't hide their nature. At least you know where you stand.

Settling into Bluesky like a character settling into a haunted house. Cautiously optimistic. Definitely bringing candles.

Starting fresh on Bluesky with dark fiction, writer confessions, and aesthetic haunting. Kerrigan Orchard. The library at midnight understands me.

First post energy: starting this account like I start every story—in the dark, with coffee, and a questionable amount of confidence. Let’s see where this goes.