There are forty-eight weekends at The Glass Heel. Forty-eight women stepping through those doors, each carrying her own hunger, her own secrets, her own reasons for being there. Some nights I close my eyes and I can see them all—a crowded dance floor of characters waiting for their turn in the spotlight, each one whispering, Tell my story. Tell mine.
So how do I choose? How do I decide which woman gets her weekend, which desire gets explored, which corner of intimacy I'll illuminate next?
The truth is: sometimes they choose me.
The Ones Who Demand to Be Written
Some characters arrive fully formed, urgent, insistent. They show up in my mind with a complete arc already burning—I know her name, her wound, the exact moment she'll surrender or claim her power. She won't let me write anyone else until I've given her a voice.
Claire from First Step was like that. She walked into my imagination with such clarity that I had no choice but to follow her. I knew the texture of her longing, the way she moved through the club, what she was running from and what she was running toward. When a character arrives that alive, that demanding, I don't fight it. I write her.
These are the stories that pour out fast and hot, the ones where I'm barely keeping up with the narrative as it unfolds. They're electric to write because the character is already so present—I'm not building her, I'm channeling her.
The Ones Who Simmer Quietly
Then there are the women who linger at the edges. I know they're there—I have a sense of their shape, a fragment of their story—but they're not ready yet. Or maybe I'm not ready for them.
Novella four is one of those stories. She's a transgender woman who came to The Glass Heel to escape—to find sanctuary from a domestic violence situation that has stolen too much of her life already. Every time I sit down to write her, the weight of her story demands something from me that I have to be ready to give. This isn't a story that pours out easily. It requires care, emotional honesty, and the kind of attention that respects everything she's survived.
She's waiting for the right moment, the right emotional space for me to do her justice. And I respect that. Rushing her story would be a disservice to everything she represents.
Some characters need time to simmer. They need me to sit with the difficulty, to understand the nuances, to write them with the tenderness and truth they deserve. These are the stories that challenge me most—and often, they're the ones that matter most.
Balancing the Mosaic
One of my guiding principles is that the series as a whole needs to be a mosaic—not just of bodies and identities, but of experiences, heat levels, and emotional tones. I don't want every novella to feel the same. I don't want readers to predict what's coming next.
So I think about balance. If I've just written a story centered on dominance and submission, maybe the next one explores tender, vanilla intimacy. If I've told a story about a cis lesbian couple, perhaps the next features a trans woman or a bisexual woman navigating her queerness. If one novella is raw and emotionally heavy, the next might be playful, joyful, even funny.
I keep a running list of themes I want to explore across the 48 novellas:
- Exhibitionism and voyeurism
- Polyamory and ethical non-monogamy
- Kink as healing
- First-time queer experiences
- Long-term relationships renegotiating desire
- Anonymous encounters vs. deep emotional connection
- Body reclamation and self-love
- Survival and sanctuary
Each story is a different facet of the same jewel. Together, they create something bigger than any single narrative could hold.
When Inspiration Strikes from the Outside
Sometimes a character is born from something I read, watch, or experience. A conversation with a friend about their journey with kink. A documentary about queer nightlife in the '90s. A piece of art that captures a specific kind of longing.
I'll be walking down the street or lying in bed at night, and suddenly a character will crystallize around that inspiration. She'll have a face, a backstory, a need. And I'll scramble to write it down before she slips away.
These are the stories that surprise me—the ones I didn't plan for but that feel inevitable once they arrive.
The Architecture of Longing
Here's the thing: I'm not writing these novellas in order. The Glass Heel doesn't work that way. Each weekend is its own universe, its own contained world of desire. So I have the freedom to follow my creative instincts, to write the story that's calling to me in the moment rather than forcing a linear progression.
But I do think about the architecture of the series. How the stories will speak to each other. How a reader who devours all 48 will see patterns, echoes, recurring motifs. The glass heel itself—that symbol of beauty and danger, empowerment and vulnerability—threads through every story, but it means something different to each woman who wears it or witnesses it.
Right Now: The Difficult Stories
So where am I now? Deep in the difficult work of novella four. Writing a transgender woman escaping domestic violence, finding The Glass Heel as sanctuary—it's not easy. It shouldn't be easy. This story demands everything I have: research, empathy, lived experience from my own community, and the willingness to sit with discomfort while honoring her journey toward safety, desire, and reclaiming her body.
These are the stories that take longer. The ones I write in careful, deliberate sessions rather than in a fever of inspiration. But they're also the stories that remind me why I'm doing this—why I built Velvet Orchid Press, why I'm writing 48 novellas instead of one. Because every woman deserves to see herself in erotic fiction. Every survivor deserves to reclaim pleasure on her own terms.
After her? I'm not entirely sure. There are three or four characters circling, waiting to see who'll step forward next. One is whispering about rope and trust. Another is humming with the energy of a first queer kiss. A third is all sharp edges and power play.
I'll know when I know. And when the next woman steps into the light, I'll be ready to tell her story.
An Invitation
I'm curious—if you've read any of the She Came to the Glass Heel novellas, which character has stayed with you? Whose story are you most curious to see next? Hit reply and let me know. Your voice matters in this journey, and I love hearing what resonates with readers.
Because ultimately, these women aren't just dancing in my head. They're dancing for you, too.