The Clockwork Coroner

Some ghosts don’t rattle chains — they rattle notebooks.

Fourteen days have passed since my last post, and like any haunted house, the silence has its own echo. But today — Halloween 2025 — I’m reviving my writing ritual. Not through magic, but through Atomic Habits.

James Clear reminds us that lasting change isn’t about massive transformations; it’s about tiny, consistent votes cast for the identity we want to embody. “Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to become.”

My vote tonight? I’m a writer who keeps showing up — even when the shadows stretch long and the drafts feel haunted.

Make it visible. Make it easy. Make it fun. Make it satisfying.

On the wall beside me, two blue rectangles wait like portals — one for The Murder of Crowe, one for The Clockwork Coroner. Soon they’ll be framed, fixed, and visible reminders that creativity isn’t a ghost you chase — it’s a habit you summon.

Trick: Disappear from your desk and your art fades into myth.

Treat: Return, and the story resurrects itself.

Happy Halloween from the Clockwork Coroner — where even habits come back from the dead.