Interview with JM Shaw
- 7 days ago
- 4 min read
By Mickey Mikkelson
How do you approach developing your characters’ emotional arcs?
Most would say the best way to write a character is to put yourself in their shoes, but it’s hardly that simple. Before I can begin their arc, I need to know my character’s history and where they’re headed, what motivates them, and what experiences—good and bad—have shaped their personality. I am a firm believer that pivotal moments shape our lives and, ultimately, who we become, which is why they’re so important to my process.
Once I know these details, I can build on them, drawing on my own emotional experiences to imagine how they might feel and react in various situations, based on how I would respond, thereby giving them authenticity rooted in real emotions. Since no one’s perfect, the messier my character’s past, the more believable they become.
Do you outline your books or write more intuitively?
I was a pantser for years, starting each story with a rough idea of where to begin, where to end, and approximately what needed to happen in the middle to shift the action toward a climax. This method allowed me to let my imagination loose, like a beast on a leash, and I merely followed where it led. It was only in the past few years that I began creating a linear map of major events, which later evolved into a chapter-by-chapter outline of decisive moments.
To this day, I continue to use this approach because it works for me. The only caveat is that I leave room for the unplanned, so my creativity isnt stifled. That way, I can effectively balance freedom and focus.
How do you know when a scene—or a novel—is finally “done”?
Just as in movies and television shows, there is a natural ebb and flow to each scene, usually ending once the purpose of that moment has been fulfilled—I call these commercial breaks. If a chapter or scene extends beyond this point, it becomes awkward and forced. Recognizing that point is as much instinctive as logical. In other words, it requires an innate ability to sense the emotional shift of each beat.
As for the novel’s ending, that’s easier. The story ends when your characters have completed their mission, most or all of their questions have been answered, and the overarching threat or problem has been resolved.
Even so, I have yet to figure out how to conclude a story without leaving an opening for a continuation of their journey.
What misconceptions about autism or ADHD do you wish more people understood—especially in relation to creativity?
I think the most common misperception is that neurodivergents are emotionally disconnected and creatively stunted, but this is not the case. Emotions are an innate part of humanity, and autism does not prevent someone from feeling. As a neurodivergent, I have no trouble experiencing deep emotions, but I often struggle to understand them, and I don’t always express them appropriately—resulting in anxiety and dysregulation. In fact, because of my difficulties with social perception and emotional awareness, I have spent my life studying elusive feelings to better understand myself and others. This exploration enables me to build complexity and authenticity into my fictional characters.
As for neurodivergence lacking creativity, this misconception seems to stem from the common belief that all autistic and ADHD individuals are far too literal and rigid in their thinking to be imaginative. I can appreciate this confusion because I am very linear—completing all tasks one step at a time, unable to skip ahead, and struggling to adapt to unexpected changes. While it is true that my brain never rests, it’s only because I am assessing the world around me from every angle and exploring countless scenarios. My neurodivergent lens is not limited to assumed norms, allowing me to conceive the extraordinary. Common misunderstandings arise because this creative process unfolds internally.
What personal truth are you always trying to express, even subconsciously?
While I pack my novels with plenty of action and adventure, I also layer in wholesome messages—self-acceptance, the importance of family and friends, trusting those we love, and choosing the right path, even when it’s more difficult. I’m a firm believer in good over evil because it speaks to my hope that humanity is not a lost cause and righteousness still exists. I have a soft spot for the underdog hero, not because it’s a popular concept, but because I am also an underdog and can empathize with the downtrodden.
I don’t shy away from discussions of mental health issues—grief, anxiety, self-doubt—since they are relatable challenges that far too many face, and I feel good knowing that I can lend my voice to those who suffer alone.
I create fictional characters that are far from perfect because we are far from perfect—and that’s okay. Though my protagonists live in a fantasy world, their problems are very real. But we will never overcome our troubles if we don’t talk about them. That’s why I write.
How do you decompress after writing emotionally intense scenes?
I can’t write an emotionally intense scene without feeling what my characters are feeling, which is why, when I’m finished, I have to step away and let my heart and mind breathe. Sometimes I’ll put on my headphones and go for a long walk or hit the gym. Other times, I’ll switch creative gears and tackle a good read or start a puzzle. I think of this time as a rest day from a hard week of working out. I don’t want to stop short; rather, I want active recovery—a lighter version of my creative marathon. And as I would with rest days, I do not engage in my emotional and mental reset for more than a day, or I risk losing the progress I’ve made. After all, creativity needs space, but it also needs commitment and discipline.
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