Judge Not Unless Ye Be Judge -- The Cover is not the Book, So Open Up and Take a Look...

My pen names are "Caitlin D Burnside" and "Aspen Winters". I am a Storyteller. That is the title I claim, the mantle I wear with more pride than any other. “Novelist” feels too formal, too bound by the rules of a craft that, in my view, has forgotten its first and most sacred purpose: to tell a good tale.

My process is simple. A subject finds me — a whisper of a theme, a ghost of an idea. It might be the weight of a forgotten oath or the chill of a shadow in a stone corridor. Then, I decide for whom I shall spin this yarn. The audience shapes the voice, you see. A story for the weary soul requires a different cadence than one for the curious mind.

My “Creative Writing” education was not found in modern manuals that dissect plot structure like a surgeon. It was learned in the telling itself. It was in the patient drawing of a character, in tracing the intricate web of how they love, betray, and endure one another. The style? It was the rhythm of the paragraph, the deliberate grouping of thought and image, punctuated by a space — a breath for the reader, a moment to let the chill settle or the dread mount.

My heart belongs to the supernatural, to the paranormal chill that slithers down the spine not with a shout, but with a sigh in the dark. And my chosen time is almost always historical, most often medieval. There is a richness in that tapestry, a darkness in those unlit halls that modern electric light cannot dispel.

This brings me to a point of some import. The grammar, the spelling you may find upon the page. I beseech you, do not mistake it for error. I employ, more oft than not, the cadence and form of medieval British English. If a word looks strange to your eye, I implore you: go, check in the dictionary! You may find a delightful surprise waiting there, a flavour of the past preserved.

I also take a liberty with Capitalisation, for the sheer joy of it. It is my little personal touch, a flourish upon the parchment. And yes, I write in British English. Expect COLOUR, not COLOR. Expect the U where your instinct may omit it. This is my chosen palette.

Therefore, I say this plainly: if, at the end of the day, these styles do not bring you enjoyment, then these are not the stories for you. Pass them by without malice.

But if you are curious… if you hear the faint echo of a lute from a torch-lit hall, or feel the prickle of a gaze from a stone gargoyle… then be my guest. Step inside. I shall appreciate your company immensely.

But pray, do not speak to me of spelling errors. On that matter, I shall be deaf as the tomb.

Good day to you.