Shaping Inspiration

From Fan to Fiction

Before I ever thought of myself as a writer, I was a fan.

Like many writers, I cut my teeth on fanfiction. I thought it was freeing as hell. Stepping into someone else’s world, borrowing beloved characters and tweaking plots, changing outcomes, or just exploring what-if scenarios. It was a great place to start with no pressure to build worlds from scratch, and just a focus on dialogue, emotion, and pacing. It was some time during this era that I realized I wanted to create something that was completely mine. And a big part of that shift came from two authors whose books didn’t just entertain me but made me fall in love with the craft.

I do want to point out that there are thousands of other authors out there who probably have had more of an impact on the entire writing community. These are just two that helped me early on.

Eoin Colfer

For a lot of people, Eoin Colfer is synonymous with Artemis Fowl. And fair enough since it’s a landmark series of his. But for me, it was The Supernaturalist and Airman that hit the hardest. I was already dabbling in creating my own world, and Jericho had been in my head and on a few pages more than once by then, but I still remember those two specifically. The Supernaturalist blended tech, corporate dystopia, ghost-like creatures, and unlikely friendships into something that felt simultaneously bleak and hopeful. Airman, a few years later when I was deep in working on Gauntlet, leaned more into historical fiction and adventure, with a dash of steampunk. Together, those two books gave me my first real sense that an author didn’t have to pick a lane.

Colfer’s ability to shift between genres without feeling like it was out of his wheelhouse and without losing his voice blew my mind. One minute he was writing high-tech sci-fi with philosophical undertones, the next he was diving into swashbuckling sky bound escapes. And it all worked. That variety planted a seed for me. I didn’t have to limit myself as a writer. I could write about magical forests in one book and cybernetic bounty hunters in another. The genre wasn’t the point—the story was.

Even more than the genre-hopping, though, it was Colfer’s tone that stuck with me. His books could be dark without being dreary, witty without being silly, heartfelt without veering into melodrama. That tightrope walk between humor and sincerity is something I’ve tried to emulate ever since. It taught me that stories could be fun and meaningful, lighthearted and intense—and that contrast often makes them more impactful.

D.J. MacHale

Then there was D.J. MacHale and his Pendragon series. I still remember reading The Merchant of Death for the first time, completely hooked by the voice of the narrator, Bobby Pendragon. I had to hide the book when I got it from the library and remember hiding it under my hoodie. Since it had the word ‘death’ on the front, I was pretty sure my mom would’ve marched me back inside to return it as soon as I climbed in the van. The books were told in first-person journal entries, and it made me feel like Bobby was talking directly to me, processing his fear, excitement, confusion, and awe in real time.

Does that sound familiar to any of my readers?

It wasn’t just that I was reading a story—I felt like I was in the story, sitting beside Bobby as he tried to make sense of these strange worlds and impossible situations. That first-person POV was a game-changer for me. Though I stray from it in my series here and there, and don’t plan on revisiting first-person narrative for at least 4 more books when I get back into the Paladin Cycle, it still showed me the most important thing for me in my writing—character voice.

Before Pendragon most of what I remember reading was in third person. But with this I was inside Bobby’s head. I felt his panic when he was forced to fight for his life, his amazement when he discovered new territories, his guilt when he failed, and his joy when he triumphed. The way MacHale structured the books added a layer of intimacy I hadn’t encountered before. It made me realize how powerful a character’s voice could be, not just in shaping the narrative, but in building a connection between the reader and the story.

That style was hugely influential in my early writing. My first original stories were all in first person (for the most part), and I was obsessed with getting the voice right. I didn’t just want to tell a story—I wanted to talk to the reader, just like Bobby Pendragon did. There was something about that conversational tone that made the world feel more real, the stakes more personal. It was less about being flashy with prose and more about being honest and vulnerable.

Side note: I had an editor way back in 2009 tell me that's called 'author intrusion', or something, and that if I wanted to be a better writer, to just remove all of it. My response was to add more moments when Jericho tells the reader he owes them a coffee, and ask if they're paying attention because that's the voice I had in my head, and that's the voice I wanted to give my readers.

Finding My Voice

As I wrote more, my style evolved. I experimented with third person, played with different tones, shifted from short stories to full-length novels. But the lessons I learned from these two authors stuck with me.

From Colfer, I learned that genre is a tool, not a cage. That stories don’t need to fit neatly into a single category to matter. That a writer’s voice can carry across wildly different landscapes and still feel coherent and grounded.

From MacHale, I learned the importance of perspective. That how a story is told can matter just as much as what’s being told. That inviting a reader into a character’s inner world can elevate even the wildest of concepts into something deeply human.

Those early influences helped push me beyond the Pokémon and Zelda fanfiction (no, you absolutely can’t read them) and helped me believe that I could tell my own stories—that my ideas, no matter how strange or messy or unpolished, were worth exploring. And slowly those stories turned into books.

To Whom it May Concern

If you’re someone who’s writing fanfiction right now, or just daydreaming about writing something someday, I get it. That first leap into creating your own world can feel intimidating. It’s easy to think that everything’s already been done, or that you’re not "original" enough, or that no one would want to read what you have to say.

But here’s the honest truth: all writers start somewhere. And often, that looks a lot like loving other people’s stories so much that we can’t help but imagine our own. The authors that inspired my early days weren’t just storytellers to me. They showed me paths I didn’t know existed and gave me tools I didn’t know I needed.

So if you’ve got a story rattling around in your brain, write it. Open that doc. Select that format. Don’t wait for everything to be perfect. Just start.

Maybe someday your stories will be the ones lighting that same spark for someone else.