On Writing A Nuanced Take on Mental Illness

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Like Dark Lover, the book that kickstarted my Black Dagger Brotherhood series, The St. Ambrose School for Girls is one of those “book of my heart” projects that had to be written. But it was not something I anticipated. I was going along, writing about vampires quite happily, with a full schedule of releases (thank you, Gallery!) when from out of the blue, Sarah M. Taylor came to me in a dream.  I had a vivid vision of a fifteen-year-old girl with dyed black hair, black baggy clothes, and a tense look on her face. She was staring at me, as if she were trying to tell me something, and as I bolted out of sleep and sat up in bed, all I could think was…

Who the hell was that?

As I said, my “day job” involves writing about the Black Dagger Brotherhood, a group of vampires who fight to protect their kind against undead lessers. Think leathers.  Sh*tkickers. Grey Goose and paranormal things that go bump in the night. This girl did not fit into that world at all, but I knew she had a story worth telling.

I also knew, if I was patient, that she would show me what she chose to of her situation.  My job as an author is to record, as faithfully as I can, the pictures in my head. If I do it right, the reader can approximate what I’m shown and thereby experience what I do as I watch these people who do not technically exist—but in fact feel very real to me—live their lives. Sarah did not waste time. Within a day, I saw the prep school at which she was feeling very out of place. I saw all those rolling lawns, the brick buildings, the early nineties setting. And after that?  Greta showed up: blond, beautiful…and a nasty piece of work who put a target on Sarah from the moment they met.

With Sarah in the forefront, and Greta in her background, I thought, I’ve got to find out where this goes. So, just like I did when the great Blind King Wrath appeared in my head, I set my alarm every day two hours earlier, sat down at my keyboard, and set about laying out the first chapter on the page. The book opens right when Sarah arrives at school as a new student. As Greta comes out of the dorm and they’re introduced, I knew in my gut that one of them wouldn’t make it to the end of the school year—maybe not even to the end of the semester. But I didn’t know who died—or how.

Okay, we’re writing a suspense story here, I thought to myself. I was totally excited to keep going because I just wanted to know who the victim and the murderer would be.

And then Sarah’s inner life came forward.

Writing her story from the first person meant I was submerged in all of her thoughts, and it didn’t take long for me to comprehend that the places she went in her mind were unusually vivid. In fact, her mind was able to alter the world around her and her experience of it. I remember the first of episode of disorientation she went through, and how I actually sat back and wondered whether I was going to keep going with the book.

Sarah has a bipolar diagnosis, and as her story goes on, her mental illness plays a role in a lot of what happens, particularly with regard to the suspense elements. But as an author, when you’re dealing with a very real and serious condition that affects many people’s lives, it would be disrespectful and ignorant to reduce it to a mere plot device. I had an immediate concern, as someone who hasn’t had any personal experience with the diagnosis, whether I should—and how I could—handle this particular part of the book.

I started by researching the symptoms, diagnosis, and treatment of bipolar disorder, and I also focused on how it was treated in the nineties in children. It became clear that I had to understand how lithium was used in patients back then, what the side effects of the drug are, and how the dosage works to mediate the symptoms. I then went on a deep dive into firsthand accounts of people living with bipolar disorder.

I spent three years writing and refining the book. A lot of that time was spent making sure that what was in the manuscript reflected—as accurately as I could, as an outsider—what someone goes through when they are bipolar. When I felt like I had taken the content as far as I could, I had the manuscript read by people who have the disorder or who have loved ones who suffer from it. I felt it was really important to make sure that in all my academic research, I didn’t inadvertently misrepresent something or commit a gaffe out of ignorance.

Throughout St. Ambrose, Sarah’s unreliable mind is almost a character in and of itself. She certainly experiences her thoughts as something other than her, and they’re tormentors just like her nemesis, Greta. As with Greta’s pranks, Sarah’s ideations feel stronger and more in control than she is, and they target her day and night. The end result is that sometimes, Sarah doesn’t know whether what she is experiencing is real or not.  In this aspect, her relationship with the world added to the suspense of the story because the reader, like Sarah, has no idea what to believe as all they have to go on is through her eyes and interpretation.

During the first draft, when I had no idea what the ending of the story was going to be and was really just functioning as the first reader, I truly felt for Sarah. Navigating the world as she does is incredibly unsettling and dangerous at times. Although the disorder is perhaps better understood now, and certainly there are new drugs to treat it, there remains a lot that must be endured, and the isolation is real.

Sarah is very much an outsider, and I think we all go through periods in our lives where we feel apart from everyone else around us. Whether it’s from a diagnosis, a loss, or a confusion over what we want or what’s good for us, to feel alone is part of the human condition. What I love about St. Ambrose is how Sarah finds her way and her footing. And can I just say that her roommate, Strots, is one my favorite people ever?

St. Ambrose is certainly a departure for me, and I am really grateful to my publisher for all their support for this project. I’m also especially thankful to those who helped me so much by sharing their lived experiences with bipolar disorder. Their openness, courage, and willingness to teach me are the backbone of this book—and of Sarah, whom I love as if she were real.

I sure am glad that that dream came to me back in 2020.

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