The Courage to Be Uncomfortable: Writing Without Fear of Retribution
“The best stories are always about the people. You can have the most incredible setting, the most amazing plot, but if you don’t care about the people in the story, it won’t matter.” — Matthew Reilly
Fear is one of the greatest barriers to creativity. Not fear of failure—that’s a given. No, the fear I’m talking about is far more personal. It’s the fear of judgment. Of being misunderstood. Of someone reading your words and thinking, Is that how they really see the world? Is that what they really think?
When I started writing Dark Matter, that fear was loud. I could hear it every time I sat down to write – No matter where that was. Don’t go too far. Don’t write that scene. Don’t let that character say those words. But the more I listened to that fear, the more I realised it wasn’t protecting me—it was holding me back.
Because stories that matter—stories that linger—aren’t born from playing it safe. They’re born from leaning into discomfort. From letting your characters speak truths you’d never dare say out loud. From exploring emotions and situations that feel raw and unpolished.
Take Joshua Carpenter, the central figure in Dark Matter. He’s young, yes, but he’s not naive. His journey isn’t one of straightforward heroism—it’s one of doubt, fear, and messy choices. At one point, he stands at the edge of a ritual he knows could shatter his mind, his soul, or worse. And yet, he steps forward. Not because he’s brave, but because he feels he must.
It would have been easy to smooth over Joshua’s fear—to make him confident or noble. But that wouldn’t have been honest. And it wouldn’t have been compelling.
Then there’s Beris, the shadowy trickster who flickers in and out of reality. Beris isn’t a traditionally ‘likable’ character. He’s sarcastic, morally grey, and constantly teetering on the edge of self-interest. And yet, he’s fascinating. Why? Because he feels real. He’s not written to be approved of—he’s written to be understood.
As writers—and as readers—we need to give ourselves permission to sit in that discomfort. To let our characters be flawed, messy, and sometimes even unlikable. To explore the darkest corners of our imagination without worrying about who might peer into those shadows and judge us for what they find.
And let’s be honest: the best stories aren’t about making readers comfortable. They’re about making readers feel.
In Dark Matter, you’ll meet characters who make impossible choices. Characters who say things you might not agree with, and do things you might not condone. But that’s the point. Because life isn’t clean. People aren’t perfect. And the stories that resonate the most are the ones that reflect that messy truth back at us.
I learned this lesson from Stephen King’s On Writing. He says, “The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.” That’s not just true of starting a book—it’s true of every uncomfortable scene, every raw conversation, every moment where you push past fear and just write.
So whether you’re a writer battling your inner critic, or a reader craving stories that aren’t afraid to take risks, remember this: discomfort isn’t the enemy. It’s a sign you’re getting close to something true.
If you’re ready to step into a story that doesn’t hold back—that asks hard questions and doesn’t always offer easy answers—sign up for updates on Dark Matter today. You’ll get exclusive content, early access, and a pre-release discount. Sign up here.