Stephanie Douglas - Action, Suspense, and High-Stakes Survival

Stephanie Douglas writes pulse-pounding YA science fiction that dares to ask what we become when everything is taken away. Her debut novel, Callasandra Fractured, delivers a gripping blend of psychological tension, cinematic worldbuilding, and a cast of unforgettable characters navigating a regime that rewrites reality one choice at a time.  With a deep love for stories where rebellion simmers beneath the surface, Stephanie crafts narratives that live in the in-between—where silence can be deadly, survival is a performance, and trust is the ultimate risk. Her work explores identity, power, and the quiet moments that define who we are when no one is watching.  As our Author of the Day, she tells us all about her book, Callasandra Fractured.Callasandra Fractured introduces Cassi, a sixteen-year-old thrust into a completely alien world. How did you approach developing her character so readers could connect with her immediately?Cassi’s story actually started from a nightmare that stayed with me for weeks. In the dream it was the middle of the night and I entered the living room of an old Victorian house. Out of nowhere, the trunk of a tree burst through the ceiling, then disappeared, only to crash through again somewhere else. There was no debris, almost like a giant puppeteer was making it happen.I woke up with my heart racing. I remember thinking how disturbing it would be to wake and find something so inexplicably different in your home. I imagined how terrifying it would be for a teenager to experience that, and, on top of it, to discover everyone she loved was gone. That was the moment I thought, this is a story I would want to read, and I started writing that weekend. From there, I knew Cassi had to be not only someone readers would root for, but also someone they could see themselves in. She’s resilient but vulnerable, brave but scared, and in a way, her character also reflects how we do our best to adapt when life suddenly feels unrecognizable.The dimensional fracture concept is central to the story. Did you draw inspiration from physics, multiverse theories, or purely from imagination?The dimensional fracture grew out of my desire for creative freedom rather than from physics textbooks or multiverse theory. I wanted a concept that felt expansive enough to build a series around, but grounded enough to stay believable through the eyes of the characters experiencing it. Their understanding is limited, and that’s intentional. We learn what they learn, when they learn it. That way, the fracture can stay mysterious while still feeling real through their eyes.I consider it sci-fi light, but deliberately so. The fracture gives me room to create worlds that feel real enough to matter and strange enough to pull readers deeper into the series. That tension between the known and the unknown is another way to keep the story moving and gives me room to keep it unpredictable... keep readers on the edge of their seats.Music is integrated into the novel via QR codes and a curated soundtrack. What role did this multimedia approach play in shaping the story’s emotional impact?In the chapter Raven Eyes, we meet Marissa, an entertainer who is also secretly part of the resistance group, the Antistasi. She communicates with the Antistasi through coded messages in song. As I was writing the lyrics to her first song Raven Eyes, I had the idea that if readers could actually hear the music in real time with the characters, it would make the reading experience more immersive and cinematic. Understanding that reading is such a personal experience, it was important to me that I make the music optional by using QR codes.I worked with musicians from around the world, providing them with details of each scene, the emotions I wanted the music to carry, the duration, and style samples to guide and inspire them. The result was a soundtrack that is haunting and beautiful. The music adds another layer of atmosphere that pulls readers deeper into Cassi’s world and makes the emotional weight of each scene more powerful. Hearing from readers how beautiful the music is and how it brought them deeper into the story squeezes my heart in the best way... every single time.Did you draw from personal experiences or observations when exploring Cassi’s resilience and her response to trauma? In the story, rebellion simmers beneath the surface. What draws you to stories about underground movements and the quiet power of resistance?I’ve always been drawn to stories where people survive by using their wits, by finding strength in unexpected allies, and by building trust in places where it doesn’t come easily. That idea of found family, of choosing the people who stand beside you, shaped both my own life and Cassi’s journey.I grew up in an environment where survival depended on reading the room and leaning on chosen family outside of my home. Friends, teachers, and mentors became my lifeline. That experience shaped Cassi’s story in a way, but her family is a safe space and she desperately wants to find them. She survives in this dangerous world not only through her determination, but through the alliances she builds and the trust she risks giving. The Antistasi reflects that same spirit — people who live in the shadows, using secrets and strategy to fight back against something larger than themselves. For Cassi, as for me, survival is never just about endurance. It’s about connection, trust, and the quiet strength that grows when you find your people.There are intense and sometimes dark scenes involving surveillance, punishment, and manipulation. How do you navigate writing these without overwhelming younger readers while still maintaining realism? Many readers note the psychological tension as a highlight of the novel. How do you build suspense while keeping it relatable to YA readers?I knew from the start that the government in this story had to feel truly oppressive. Not just hinted at, but real enough that readers would want it to end and feel drawn to the resistance. That meant writing scenes that were heavy, and honestly, some of them were hard for me to put on the page. Surveillance, punishment, manipulation—these weren’t just background ideas in Cassi’s world. They had to be lived experiences for the characters, and I didn’t want to soften that too much. At the same time, I didn’t want to overwhelm younger readers or use graphic detail just to prove the point. I tried to write those moments with enough clarity to feel them, but always through the lens of what it meant emotionally rather than spelling out every detail.When the story risked getting too dark, I leaned on one of my favorite characters named Joren. He’s witty, clever, caring… an ally whose humor, authenticity, and genuine caring gave Cassi (and me, while I was writing) a little space to breathe. Their conversations naturally ease the tension, showing how they cared for each other, how they kept a piece of hope alive in the middle of something incredibly dark and dangerous. That balance—between fear and trust, tension and tenderness—is what made the suspense manageable. It kept the story grounded in connection, even when the stakes were at their worst.If you could give one piece of advice to young writers who want to craft dystopian or multiverse stories, what would it be?The best advice I could give is not to let the "how" get in the way. Write it as it flows, then go back and edit. What surprised me most was how often the writing felt less like inventing and more like transcribing a movie that was already unfolding in my head. Scenes played out visually, cinematically, and my job was simply to keep up, capturing the dialogue, the tension, the images before they slipped away.Worldbuilding grew from that same instinct. By the time I was three chapters in, I already knew how this book would end and how the series itself would close. To make the world believable, I drafted character origin stories, I would go on drives with my son and talk through how the society functioned, down to things like money, trade, and everyday routines. That way, when those elements appeared in the book, they surfaced naturally through the characters’ lives rather than through an information dump.The biggest thing I learned through this process was to remove judgment. Like every writer, I’ve faced moments of staring at a blank page. For me, self-criticism never moved me forward. What I learned was writer’s block wasn’t failure, it was a signal that something needed clarity. Once I saw it clearly, where the characters were, what they wanted, how they might struggle, the words always followed.I would tell young writers the most important lesson I learned through the writing process is that creativity thrives in compassion, not criticism.