The Storm Behind Scourge of the Shores: Writing a Pirate Fantasy Romance
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Some stories arrive like lightning.
Others come like the tide—slow, relentless, carrying pieces of yourself you didn’t know were waiting to surface.
Scourge of the Shores was the latter.
At first, I didn’t think I should write fantasy at all. It wasn’t Egypt or Greek mythology. It wasn’t cleanly “historical fiction” or even “historical fantasy.” It had sirens, sea dragons, krakens. Myth threaded through the sails of pirate ships. It felt too far from what I’d built my career around.
But something wouldn’t let me walk away.
I had already written Revenge on the Seas, a full-length book for the Tides of Treachery anthology. That was supposed to be it—maybe a sequel, a creative detour to break a writing slump. One and done.
Then the anthology group suggested prequels or companion stories. What started as a 40-page novella turned into a 348-page standalone. And everything changed.
Writing Through the Storm
I began Scourge of the Shores during one of the hardest seasons of my life. Two decades of ambition had driven me past my limits. I was chasing deadlines, crushing expectations, patching over health issues, skipping small victories in pursuit of impossible goals—until my body made the decision for me:
Stop. Or break.
That’s when Danna appeared.
She had been nameless in Revenge on the Seas, but in this book, she carved a story of her own.
A sea-worn captain, scarred by grief and duty. Hardened by what the sea had taken from her and what she’d spent a decade trying to protect—her family, her future, her home.
Fierce. Loyal. Driven. Exhausted.
Near broken—but gritted her teeth and was hard-determined no one would ever know how close she was to unraveling.
She reminded me of me.
Her story began with an image: a captain standing in the wreckage of a sea-dragon battle, her eyes fixed on a burning horizon. She bore the weight of everyone else’s survival, yet believed she had failed. That scene became the spine of her character—her fight not only to save her home, but to keep herself from being lost in the endgame.
Then came Robert “the Ruthless.” A pirate king shaped by legacy, desperate to become more than what his father made him, and willing to earn what truly matters. Writing this book changed how I saw him so completely that I rewrote his character in Revenge on the Seas to match who he became here.
Their clash—of pride, conviction, and longing—formed the heart of Scourge of the Shores.
The DeepMother’s Tears
At its core, this is a story about what we sacrifice to protect the ones we love—and what happens when grief collides with destiny.
The myth that threads through it all belongs to the DeepMother: a goddess betrayed and slain by those she cherished. From her soul, the sea was born. From her tears, monsters rose.
One of Robert’s memories captures this theme better than I could summarize. As a boy, thrown overboard in a storm, he recalls:
“I was six. Storm hit us outta nowhere, nearly tore us in two. Thought I’d drown in me mum’s arms. Wind howled so loud I couldn’t hear the crew shouting. Water stole the deck clean out from under me, and for a moment, I wasn’t on a ship at all—I was in the sea, gaspin’ for air, feelin’ the DeepMother’s tears, saltwater chokin’ me breath.
Funny thing was, I didn’t—I didn’t panic. I floated there, ridin’ each wave, starin’ up at the black sky streaked white, listenin’ to the rain hammer the water around me.
And for the first time, I felt somethin’ like peace. Like the sea didn’t want me dead. Just wanted me to listen, so I did. Maybe that’s why the DeepMother let me live.”
I wrote those lines late at night, and they lingered long after.
In the world of Scourge of the Shores, the DeepMother was a goddess betrayed, rejected, and slain by those she loved. She was grief made eternal.
That moment with Robert—adrift in a storm as a boy, hearing not death but peace in the sea’s roar—reminded me that sometimes life isn’t trying to kill us—sometimes it’s just trying to get our attention.
Sometimes we’re gasping for air, feeling like we’re drowning, when all we need to do is stop… and listen.
To what really matters.
To those we love.
To what we’ve been blind to, chasing something else.
It’s trying to wake us up. To the truth we’ve been avoiding.
To the love we’ve overlooked.
To the purpose we’ve buried beneath busyness or pride or pain.
I realize I was questioning everything while trying to write this story, and in the writing space, it was:
Who I was as an author.
What I was building.
Whether I could write something different without losing the readers who’ve trusted me with their time and hearts.
And Danna and Robert showed up in the middle of that fear—with scars and sharp edges—and reminded me that stories don’t have to fit in boxes.
They just have to be honest.
What You’ll Find Between These Pages
Scourge of the Shores may not look like my past books. It doesn’t fit neatly into a genre box. But if you’ve read me before, you’ll find the same heartbeat here:
- Slow-burn, closed-door romance
- Emotional intensity
- High stakes and political intrigue
- Cinematic, immersive writing
- Deeply flawed characters making impossible choices
Research anchors the fantasy:
- Political structures of pirate republics during the Golden Age of Piracy
- Nautical slang, history, and lore
- Myths of sirens, krakens, and sea dragons
- The emotional toll of inherited power
- Loyalty forged not by blood, but by choice
A Story That Healed Me
Looking back, I realize writing this book healed something in me.
Danna’s resilience. Robert’s longing to be more than his past. Lucas’s steady presence. They reminded me of the people who don’t fix your pain, but who endure with you through it—even when you try to push them away.
I wrote this story for all of us who keep going… even when we’re grieving, hurting, tired, even when we think no one sees it.
Because someone does.
Someone cares.
Someone endures with us.
And maybe that’s what Scourge of the Shores is, in the end: proof that even in the darkest storms, there’s a voice telling us to stop thrashing… and listen.
💬 Have you read it yet? If so, I’d love to know—what moment made you pause, ache, or hope?
And if you haven't, check it out here.
