Writer, Father, Killer

D. M. Wright
Feb 27
8 min read

Updated: Mar 4

TAGLINE

To protect his son, he'll rewrite the serial killer rules.

LOGLINE

A struggling self-published author and necrophiliac serial killer must break his own deadly rules to protect his silent young son from an abuser, unearthing buried traumas in the process.

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GENRE

Primary: Psychological thriller

Secondary: Crime fiction, dark horror, literary fiction

'Writer, Father, Killer' aligns closely with dark psychological thriller or extreme horror/thriller subgenres — similar in tone to works exploring serial killer mindsets (e.g. American Psycho influences or Bret Easton Ellis-style introspection), but with a distinctly personal, confessional and Australian-flavoured domestic/family layer.

It's not a cosy mystery or traditional whodunit — it's raw, introspective and unflinching, blending suspense, horror and character-driven drama.

SETTING

'Writer, Father, Killer' is set in the isolated country hills of rural Australia with its surrounding farm fields, dry yellow valleys and eucalyptus-scented national forests, and the faint vanilla tang of air freshener inside ordinary homes masks the intimate, chilling horrors of a killer's bathroom ritual.

BLURB

A writer shaped by trauma. A father driven by love. A killer split down the middle.

Writer, Father, Killer is a dark psychological thriller about an author shaped by childhood abuse and haunted by the violence it left behind. By day, he is a devoted single father; by night, he stalks and kills men who echo the ghosts of his past. When troubling signs appear on his young son, his world unravels, pulling him into a spiral of suspicion, obsession and catastrophic misjudgement. As polite investigations tighten and his fictional alter-ego begins to speak back, he is forced to confront the most devastating truth of all: the line between protector and predator may be far thinner than he can handle.

He’ll kill to protect his son… but first he must stop killing for the pleasure of his readers.

CONTENT WARNING

This book is Not Recommended for readers under the age of 18.

It contains:

Adult themes
Strong violence
Sex scenes, high impact sexual violence and bestiality

This book includes suicide and suicidal ideation, which some people may find disturbing. If you or someone you know is suicidal, please, contact your GP, go to your local hospital, or call the suicide prevention hotline in your country.

Australia:

Lifeline Ph. 13 11 14

Beyond Blue Ph. 1300 22 4636

Kids’ Helpline Ph. 1800 55 1800 (Kids to 25 years old)

Open Arms Ph. 1800 011 46 (Veterans and their families)

CHAPTERS

The house of the dead

1. Sons and lovers

2. The man who came to dinner

3. The body snatcher

4. The sound and the fury

5. The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

6. The gambler

7. The double

8. Animal farm

9. The tempest

10. The secret garden

11. Bleak house

12. Les misérables

13. Fathers and sons

14. For whom the bell tolls

15. The fall of the House of Usher

16. War & peace

Crime & punishment

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I wrote 'Writer, Father, Killer' because, quite frankly, I personally met some of the darkest individuals my city had to offer (them behind bars, not me) — and despite their horrific crimes, came across as men who were fiercely devoted to their children; men who wept when they visited, who broke down when they didn't, who would kill anyone to protect them... yet showed little regard for their own victims. Or, for others, show too much 'love' for them, breaking legal boundaries of fatherhood.

I always have had the idea in mind of a killer writing gruesome murder-mysteries, but it were these fiery prisoners who gave birth to a fuller man — a protagonist with three faces of everyday life: work (writer), life (father) and play (killer).

The paternal core of the story became the emotional engine. I wanted to imagine that aggressive, unconditional love in its purest and most conflicted form — how it might anchor someone even as their own darkness threatens to swallow everything. The tenderness the protagonist shows Riley, the guilt when it clashes with his rituals, the desperate hope that love might redeem him… Could even monstrous love still be real love?

The writer story is straight from my own trenches. Self-publishing in Australia is brutal — rejections, tiny sales, the constant hustle, the sense that certain raw, unfiltered voices get sidelined. I've felt the sting of books buried under "market trends", the financial drain, the doubt that creeps in when you're pouring everything into stories few people read. Giving the protagonist those frustrations let me vent them, examine them, and maybe shine a light on the indie grind for other writers grinding alongside me.

The killer side is pure fiction fuelled by a lifelong pull toward psychological extremes. I've met them — murderers, rapists, paedophiles — sometimes ordinary blokes rationalising the unthinkable, building their little codes, detaching just enough to function. I wanted to push that into domestic territory: a killer who straddles corpses in his bathroom but still kisses his kid goodnight, who writes about monsters to process the one inside. Not to glorify, but to confront how close evil can live to normalcy, how it hides in plain sight.

But this book was made for more than just a gory tale. It's here to provoke questions we don't like asking: about trauma's long shadow, about silence in families, about how predators wear the mask of "good dad" or "mate", about whether art can ever truly exorcise darkness or just dress it up. If it makes readers uncomfortable enough to talk about abuse, mental health, or the literary world's blind spots — or simply has you giving your own kids a little tighter hug — then it's served some greater purpose.

THEMES

'Writer, Father, Killer' explores several interconnected dark themes through its confessional narrative:

The cycle of abuse and intergenerational trauma

How childhood sexual abuse shapes adult desires, behaviours, and monstrous actions, turning victims into perpetrators who repeat patterns .

Fatherhood and paternal love vs. darkness

The fierce, protective instinct of a father clashing with his own capacity for evil, where genuine tenderness for a child coexists with horrific crimes and moral rationalisations.

Guilt, self-justification and moral codes

A serial killer's internal "rules" as a fragile framework to maintain control and denial, while guilt and self-loathing erode from within.

The struggle for artistic recognition and identity

The frustration of indie publishing, gender biases in the literary world, financial failure, and using writing as both therapy and veiled confession.

Predation, power and hypocrisy in relationships

Contrasting hidden abuses with outward normalcy, exposing how predators can appear as caring family figures.

Silence and unspoken horrors

Symbolised by Riley's selective mutism, representing suppressed trauma, the inability to voice pain, and how secrets fester in families and individuals.

Overall, the book delves unflinchingly into the banality of evil within ordinary domestic life, the blurred line between victim and monster, and the desperate hope that love (especially paternal) can break destructive cycles — even as the protagonist succumbs to "just one more."

TONE & VIBE

'Writer, Father, Killer' carries a dark, confessional and unflinchingly intimate tone — claustrophobic and introspective like a killer's private journal, blending raw guilt, paternal tenderness, grim eroticism and quiet rural menace into a chilling, almost poetic vibe of everyday domesticity rotting from the inside out.

POV

First-person

Present tense

'Writer, Father, Killer' is written in first-person present tense from the perspective of the unnamed protagonist — an Australian self-published author, father and secret serial killer — giving readers direct, unfiltered access to his confessional inner monologue, rationalisations, guilt, desires, and chilling detachment as events unfold in real time.

MAIN CHARACTER SNAPSHOTS

The narrator

A struggling, self-published Australian thriller author in his late 30s or early 40s, living alone in a modest rural home in the Adelaide Hills. He is introspective and haunted, with a calm exterior masking deep-seated trauma from childhood abuse, guilt over his serial killings (strangulation followed by necrophilic rituals in the bathroom), and fierce, protective love for his son. Physically unremarkable — average build, perhaps slightly dishevelled from late-night writing and stress — he rationalises his "rules" like a craftsman perfecting his trade, yet his first-person confessions reveal raw vulnerability, self-loathing, and quiet desperation to be a good father despite the darkness consuming him. His world is one of rejections, crayon drawings pinned above his desk, and the faint vanilla scent that masks his horrors.

Riley

A quiet, wide-eyed 7-year-old boy, the narrator's son, who speaks very little — mostly just "Daddy" in varied tones — and often communicates through gestures, giggles or intense stares of wonder at things like Nemo in the fish tank. Innocent and trusting, with short hair and a small frame that makes him seem even more fragile, he wanders long distances alone to see his father, clings during hugs, and draws simple stick-figure families. His selective mutism hints at unspoken trauma, yet he radiates pure, grounding warmth for the narrator. His rare words ("Nite daddy") become emotional lifelines, symbolising fragile hope amid the story's rot.

Jason

The narrator's childhood friend and now ex-wife's husband and stepfather to Riley — a strong, muscular, outwardly warm Australian man of the same age, with a rugged, friendly demeanor, firm handshakes and an easy smile that disarms. He's caring and hands-on (guiding Riley at dinner, playing with him), and welcomingly offers beers and brotherly banter. His physical presence — tall, fit, handsome — carries both charm and a balance to the narrator's menace, making him the "good guy" to his mate's hidden killer.

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

General & Overall Response

What were your initial reactions to the book? Did the content warnings prepare you adequately, or did certain elements still shock or disturb you?
How effective was the first-person present tense POV in immersing you in the protagonist's mind? Did it make you feel complicit, empathetic, repulsed, or something else?

Themes of Trauma, Abuse, and Cycles of Violence

The novel explicitly explores intergenerational trauma and the cycle where victims become perpetrators. How convincingly does it portray the protagonist's childhood abuse shaping his adult actions and desires?
Do you believe the book suggests redemption or escape from these cycles is possible, or is it ultimately pessimistic? How does the ending reinforce or challenge this?
How does Riley's selective mutism function as a symbol of unspoken trauma? What does his rare speech (e.g. asking for a turtle) reveal about healing or hope?

Fatherhood, Love, and Protection

The protagonist insists his love for Riley is genuine and protective, yet he commits horrific acts. Can true paternal love coexist with such darkness, or is it delusion?
Compare the protagonist's and Jason's relationships to Riley. How does the book blur the lines between "good" and "bad" father figures, and what does this say about hypocrisy in family roles?
Did the protagonist's final decision ("just one more") feel inevitable, tragic, or a betrayal of his paternal instincts? Why?

Morality, Justification, and the "Rules" of Killing

The protagonist's self-imposed "rules" (never kill someone known, change MO if needed) give structure to his crimes. How do these rationalisations reflect broader human tendencies to justify evil?
Is the protagonist a monster, a victim of his past, both, or neither? Where do you draw the line between understanding trauma and excusing actions?
How does the book critique or explore the nature vs. nurture debate in criminal behavior?

The Literary/Artistic Struggle

The protagonist's frustrations with indie publishing, gender biases in the industry, and financial failure are woven throughout. How does this meta-layer comment on the author's real-world experiences or the value of "masculine" dark fiction?
Does writing serve as therapy, confession, or justification for the protagonist? Would his crimes have escalated without this outlet?

Narrative Style and Ethics of Depiction

The graphic depictions of violence, necrophilia and abuse are unflinching. Did they enhance the psychological realism, or cross into exploitation? How responsibly does the book handle these elements?
The ending subverts traditional thriller resolutions (no clean justice, mutual destruction avoided through complicity). Was it satisfying, frustrating or artistically bold? Why?
How does the rural South Australian setting (isolation, storms, domestic normalcy) amplify the tone of quiet menace and hidden horrors?

Broader Implications

The book touches on societal indifference to male victims/suicides and child abuse in "ordinary" families. What commentary does it offer on these issues?
If this were adapted into a film or series, what challenges would arise in portraying the protagonist's inner world without alienating viewers?
Would you recommend this book to others? Under what circumstances (e.g. trigger warnings, mature audiences only)?
In what ways does 'Writer, Father, Killer' fit into (or subvert) the psychological thriller genre, especially compared to works like 'American Psycho' or other confessional killer narratives?