KATIE MARIE

Last Friday, we looked back at 2025, and I marvelled at the sheer number of things that somehow happened without me physically combusting. Naturally, it feels only right to follow that up by looking forward to 2026 and all the things I am boldly, optimistically, and possibly recklessly planning to do next.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself, it’s that reflection quickly turns into scheming.

Rediscovering Non-Fiction as a passion

2026 is shaping up to be a Big Project Year™, which feels both thrilling and deeply terrifying. At the top of the list is my first non-fiction book about horror writing (working title: How to Write Fear). I hope to have a first draft finished in the first half of 2026.

Some of you may remember (and if you don’t, that’s absolutely fine) that my day job used to be practising as a Legal Executive. During that time, I also ran LawCat, writing and publishing plain-English articles, books and guides to help people navigate basic legal processes themselves. I haven’t worked in law for a few years now, but that itch, the joy of explaining something complex in a way that makes it feel doable, never really went away. Add to that the fact that I’m now a baby academic and an established horror writer, and eventually my brain went, “What if we did that again… but spooky?”

Thus, How to Write Fear was born.

Screenplays, Self-Doubt, and Lakes (Just in Case)

Also slated for the first half of 2026 is the third draft of my first screenplay.

A few years ago, when Brigids Gate Press published ‘A Man in Winter’, I was contacted by a few studios interested in purchasing the film rights. Nothing ultimately came of it (which, I’ve since learned, is extremely common), but it planted a seed. In 2025, I had some very encouraging conversations with writer friends, and I decided to try adapting it into a screenplay myself. After a lot of research, rewriting, and staring at formatting rules like they were written in an alien language, I have now sent a completed draft to a reputable script editor for feedback.

Now, what happens next depends entirely on what they say. If the feedback is, “This is an unforgivable crime against nature, please throw yourself into a lake,” then perhaps screenwriting was a character-building exercise and nothing more. But if it’s more along the lines of, “For a first attempt, this is not a total disaster,” then I might keep going.

In Bloom and the Art of Not Giving Up

The second half of the year is reserved, emotionally and structurally, for finishing the third draft of In Bloom and, ideally, sending it to an editor.

In Bloom began as an experiment. I’d never written a multi-POV novel before. Still, I was fascinated by the idea of using multiple perspectives to explore how the same events can be experienced, interpreted, and remembered differently. Not to mention how your own biases, experiences, etc influence your perception of events.

What I underestimated was… everything.

Timelines became puzzles, characters overlapped in inconvenient ways, and entire chapters had to land inside other chapters without anyone noticing the scaffolding. At one point, everyone started sounding the same, which really undermined the whole “different perspectives” concept. Add pacing into the mix, aka making sure no character felt neglected or artificially accelerated, and it’s no surprise I’ve considered abandoning the approach more than once. Or, as writers like to say, “putting it on the back burner,” which is just giving up in polite language.

But between Christmas and New Year, I had an idea, my last experiment before admitting defeat. Instead of interweaving POVs, I’m going to tell each character’s story in full, one at a time. Part One: Nessa. Part Two: Amelia. Then Mason, and so on, until the start of Act Three, where everyone’s story collides for the final reckoning.  It feels risky, but for the first time in a while… it feels right.

Wish me luck.

Anthologies, Contracts, and Short Stories

I’m also tentatively exploring the idea of putting together my first short story collection, an anthology of my previously published work. So if, in some fantasy world, someone wants just to read my work, then they don’t have to buy all the anthologies I’ve been fortunate enough to be published in; they can just buy one.

This involves reading a small mountain (humble brag) of contracts to figure out which stories I can legally reprint, because publishing rights are time-limited, not eternal. If there’s enough available material to make a solid collection, fantastic. If not, this project will quietly shuffle onto the back burner until future me is better equipped.

Future me is very tired already.

I’ll still be writing short stories, as always, but I’ve promised myself I’m writing fewer of them, deliberately. The radical idea here is that less frantic output might lead to better work. This is, of course, an experiment and we’ll see how long it lasts.

The PhD Continues (Naturally)

In 2025, I “finished” the second draft of my first creative-critical piece for my PhD (there are four of them total). In 2026, I move on to writing the second short story/novella and its critical accompaniment.

No rest, only narrative.

Academia, Horror, and Taking Up Space

As I said in the last blog, I want to establish myself as an academic specialising in horror and underrepresented voices. That means conferences (which I already attend for fun), presenting at high-profile events, and publishing in peer-reviewed journals.

I’m already part of the GOTH (Gender and Otherness in the Humanities) research group, where I’ve attended symposiums, presented my work, and, somehow, ended up as a co-convener this year. I’m also aiming to present an article at the 2026 Symposium, which is currently with an editor and may be published in the accompanying special edition journal.

No pressure, just everything I care about.

Teaching: The Long-Term Dream

In a perfect world, I’d love to teach, maybe part-time, maybe as a guest lecturer, maybe somewhere slightly haunted. To make that possible, I’m working toward accreditation as a higher education teacher. That means courses, workshops, and real classroom experience, which I’m lucky enough to be getting through my university’s teaching scheme, where I’m currently supporting degree-level creative writing courses as a TA.

So the plan for 2026 is to keep doing that. I’ve signed up for a six-to-eight-week course in January, there’s another one in September, and I’ve got until at least June on the Teaching Scheme.

So far, so good. I mean, it’s terrifying, but good.

And Finally… Being a Human Person

Outside of academia and writing, my goals for 2026 are refreshingly ordinary.

I’m exercising a bit more, adding ten minutes to each of my four weekly sessions to hit a consistent 150-200 minutes a week. I intend to age as strongly and stubbornly as possible.

I’m also eating better. In 2024/25, I lost weight (I went from 151lbs to 118lbs over the course of 18 months) and I’m proud of myself. But I’ve realised I achieved this largely by removing food rather than replacing bad food with good food. Which led to me accidentally skipping meals entirely (ADHD does not help with this). So this year, I’ve installed a habit-tracking app with two revolutionary daily goals:

• Eat a healthy breakfast.
• Eat a healthy lunch.

Booyah! Mild malnutrition avoided.

Oh, and we’re also planning our next Japan trip for October 2026!

So… What Is 2026 Shaping Up to Be?

Ambitious, creative, academically unhinged, and slightly terrifying. But also hopeful.

If 2025 taught me anything, it’s that I can carry a lot, and that the work I care about is worth making space for. So, here’s to trying boldly, learning loudly, and seeing what survives the experiment.