From Trauma Psychologist to Thriller Writer

I’m a former clinical psychologist with a specialization in childhood trauma so the question I get asked the most often is, “Are your books real?” The answer to that is a disturbing yes. Everything I write is loosely based on my personal experiences with clients or birthed from a traumatic story someone shared with me in real life. 

I’m not the only one whose clinical work has found its way on to the page. Other psychologists (i.e., Jonathan Kellerman, Jacqueline Sheehan, and Maryka Biaggo) have all written bestselling novels and make similar reports describing the ways their career as a psychologist informs their books. I couldn’t agree more. My experience working in inpatient psychiatric units and treatment centers provides a level of authenticity to my characters and insight into human behavior that wouldn’t have been accessible otherwise. Many of the most successful crime writers are former lawyers, so it’s not surprising that psychologists are not any different, and create incredible psychological thrillers. 

At first glance, psychology and writing may seem like two different professions composed of opposite skill sets, but surprisingly, the two are quite similar. The skills that made me a good psychologist are the same ones that make me a good writer. For example, being a skilled psychologist means setting aside your own way of viewing and experiencing the world in order to get inside someone else’s head. It’s impossible to help people or understand them if you only see them through the lens with which you view the world. You have to be able to suspend your beliefs and ideas in order to understand someone else’s. Otherwise, you’re just projecting who you are onto them. 

It’s a similar process when it comes to writing and getting inside a character’s head, which is necessary if you want to create authentic, compelling characters. I approach my characters in the same way I approached my clients. Who are you? Not who you say you are or who you pretend to be, but who are you really? What do you do when no one is looking? How do you experience life? People? Environments? What was it like growing up? Who were your people?

Psychology married my two passions—helping people and telling stories—and my experience working at inpatient psychiatric facilities spilled over into characters and situations that have formed the basis of all my books. I had a notebook in one of my offices at the hospital that was reserved for character ideas and stories taken from my cases. I made notes about all the frightening and unsettling things the children said or did so that I wouldn’t forget. I scribbled side notes in the margins of the testing protocols I used that I transferred into my notebook after we were finished with our assessments. I still have this notebook in my office at home today.

Whenever I say that I used to work with traumatized kids, that’s exactly what people think of—kids. They never think about the parents or their caregivers as being part of the therapy equation, but they’re a central part. You can’t do therapy with a child without the parents or caregivers. People rarely give consideration to what it’s like being the parent of a child struggling with serious mental health issues or even worse, one that’s done something terrible and violent to someone else. We only talk about the parents in relationship to their children’s issues when we’re pointing the finger directly at them. We vilify parents of children that are struggling as much as we do the child. We never stop to consider how it might feel to be that parent. 

In my work with children and families, I was always struck by the parents’ stories and their roles in their children’s lives. But it was never the ones that we knew had untreated mental health issues and problems themselves—the parents leaving their children neglected and alone for days or the ones putting the bruises on their bodies. Those were never the ones that fascinated me. I was intrigued and obsessed with the parents who were incredibly involved in their children’s lives. Who sent them to the best schools. Gave them the best education. Surrounded them in love and support. Who then watched as their child did something terrible. We like to think children are violent and hurtful because of their parents, but what if that’s not always the case? Where does that leave us? Can a child be born bad?

That’s a disturbing question.

One that I love asking. I push those boundaries. I tell those stories. The most gut-punching—what would you do if it were you scenarios… and my new audio thriller, One of Our Own, is my most unsettling parent/child scenario to date. 

Listen to an audio excerpt here!