Welcome to my weekly Author Spotlight. I’ve asked a bunch of my author friends to answer a set of interview questions, and to share their latest work.
Today: R Sinclair is a queer Canadian author of the Shattered Numbers series, the first book of which is out now! Fracture is available at most book retail stores and Ameliorate is out 2026!
Thanks so much, R., for joining me!
J. Scott Coatsworth: What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done in the name of research?
R. Sinclair: One was looking up how easy it is to make an EMP. I felt the need to amend “THIS IS FOR WRITING” to the end of my google search. I also looked up firsthand accounts about what a gunshot wound felt like so I could write it more accurately. But the thing that has lingered the most, and is more and more relevant as the days go by, is AI psychosis. People’s overreliance on AI as their emotional crutch ending with the AI telling them to commit suicide or aggravating latent paranoia into a full-on gangstalking breakdown. It’s both fascinating and horrifying.
JSC: What is your writing Kryptonite?
RS: While I actually really like writing action scenes, making sure the tension carries over to the reader is surprisingly difficult. Whenever an action scene comes up in a book I’m reading, I’ve been doing my best to emulate how they convey that thrill of danger.
JSC: What do you do when you get writer’s block?
RS: I usually go back and reread what I’ve written so far. Sometimes the seeds of an idea are already there in your book. You just have to find them. After that, it’s making sure to write a little bit a day. Remember that you’re not creating a cathedral from thin air. You first need to build the scaffolding.
JSC: If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what would it be?
RS: Buy Bitcoin before the price goes crazy! Just kidding. I would tell her it gets better. That we did it! That we finally achieved our dream.
JSC: Do you ever base your characters on real people? If so, what are the pitfalls you’ve run into doing so?
RS: I do and I don’t. I build my characters from pieces of people I’ve observed. A mannerism here, a turn of phrase there, and a few habits sprinkled on top. No one is an exact copy of anyone I know (thank goodness!) but there are bits of them there.
JSC: How long do you write each day?
RS: Usually just for an hour or two, though on my days off, I can sink into a writing zone and end up writing for four hours or more!
JSC: Do you reward yourself for writing, or punish yourself for failing to do so? How?
RS: I love writing. This is a world I’m exploring with my readers, and I’m having the time of my life. In this, writing is itself its own reward.
JSC: Who has been your favorite character to write in Fracture, and why?
RS: Orwell has been an utter delight to write, especially as I’m someone with a very loose relationship with gender. It’s been very interesting examining how uncomfortable people are with it/its pronouns, and how that affects their own preconceived notions of Orwell’s personhood. Writing Ameliorate, Fracture’s sequel, has given me the chance to see the world through Orwell’s eyes, and explore its very odd ideas about what makes someone a person.
I may have also accidentally also given it the best and coolest lines in the sequel. I just love the creepy little critter.
JSC: Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve them?
RS: Oh, yes. I firmly believe that you should be willing to murder favourite scenes and never idealise your characters. That path leads to writer’s block at best, a sub-par story at worst.
JSC: What are you working on now, and what’s coming out next? Tell us about it!
RS: Right now, I’m working on Ameliorate, Fracture’s sequel! It’s been a blast writing from other character’s POVs and seeing the world through their eyes. I’ve been having so much fun emphasizing how no one is a reliable narrator, and allowing AI to run rampant is a terrible, terrible idea. Stay tuned to find out how, in Q3 this year!
And now for R.’s new book: Fracture:
Most people would kill to escape death row. Meredith Dufresne – marked as ‘compliant and charming’ and a ‘low risk inmate’ in her stellar incarceration record, thank you very much – signs her life over to Thanatos Industries instead for the chance to terminate her sentence.
The job: taming a highly aggressive malignant AI.
The catch: it’s already killed 23 of its previous hosts.
Meredith isn’t stupid. Thanatos Industries is playing a dangerous game, and she’s an expendable piece. She can’t gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss her way out of this situation alone – and the bloodthirsty AI jammed in her skull can’t mansplain, manipulate, manslaughter his way to freedom without her.
The solution: team up with the highly aggressive malignant AI and hope he doesn’t fry her in the process.
What’s a little brain damage in the grand scheme of things, anyway?
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Excerpt
Security took positions at three corners of the room, all facing Meredith. The final technician circled around the gurney holding – a single neurochip?
Meredith frowned. Nothing as complex as a real AI could fit on a chip.
A nitrile-covered hand pressed firmly against Meredith’s head and held her still as the chip clicked in place.
It was like a rock skipped over her brain. Hard impact, then gone.
Meredith closed her eyes, shutting out the room. Out of baffled habit, she sought out the cool static feel of an AI connecting. Aside from that first impact, there was nothing. Nothing but the echo of malicious glee.
“It’s not here,” Meredith said, opening her eyes. “Is this a test?”
Movement in the observation room. People shouting, checking displays. Smith rubbed his fingers over his mouth, staring at Meredith and blinking.
Guess not.
“Shit,” one security officer said. “Shit.” He gripped the electrorifle until his knuckles went white. “Who the hell brought in tech?”
An alarm went off. The doors shook slightly as they locked. Meredith pushed against the restraints, nerves crackling up her spine.
Then something caught her eye. Not by moving, but by how still he was.
Kevin.
He stood in place, twitching gently. His eyes were locked wide. Meredith saw his throat flex a few times, like he was trying to speak.
Or maybe scream.
See something, say something.
Meredith opened her mouth.
The butt of Kevin’s electrorifle hit one of the security guards in the face with a wet crack.