Writing Grief That Doesn’t Apologize — Letting your characters bleed, break, and still matter

 

Writing Grief That Doesn’t Apologize

— Letting characters stay broken, raw, and real in the House of Teeth Saga

There’s a kind of grief that characters are allowed to have in fiction — quiet, tasteful, and tidy.
It’s the kind that resolves by the third act, softens into wisdom, or gets buried under a conveniently timed romantic subplot.

But in the House of Teeth Saga, that’s not how grief works.

Because in real life?
Grief doesn’t wait to be invited. It doesn’t apologize. And it doesn’t go away just because the plot moves on.

🩸 Let Them Stay Wrecked

When I write grief into my characters — especially Kriia, Remi, and Rexar — I let it linger.
Not for dramatic effect.
But because that’s how it is.
Grief is something you carry, not conquer.

Kriia doesn’t “heal” from what happened in The Color of Regret.
She learns how to keep breathing with it lodged in her chest.
Remi doesn’t stop blaming himself just because someone tells him he shouldn’t.
And Rexar — even with all his warmth — still stares into flames and wonders if he should’ve burned sooner or brighter or not at all.

These characters aren’t broken for flavor.
They’re broken because they survived.
And survival is its own kind of trauma.

🩸 The Pressure to Move On (And Why I Reject It)

There’s a subtle expectation in storytelling:
“Okay, they grieved — now get on with it.”
Wrap it up. Tie the bow. Cue the hopeful montage.

But when I wrote these books, I wasn’t interested in clean arcs.
I was interested in truth.
And the truth is: some grief doesn’t end. It evolves. It settles into the cracks of who you are and becomes part of your decisions, your fears, your loyalty, your rage.

So I gave my characters space to fall apart.
I let them say the wrong things.
Make self-destructive choices.
Love recklessly, desperately, imperfectly.

Not because it’s edgy.
But because it’s honest.

🩸 The Grief You Can Taste

Grief in House of Teeth isn’t just emotional — it’s physical.
It’s Remi pacing until his voice cracks.
It’s Kriia lashing out when silence feels too loud.
It’s Rexar cooking someone’s favorite meal after a fight just to feel useful again.

It’s small. Ugly. Relatable.
It shows up when no one’s looking.

And that’s what makes it powerful.

🩸 No Fixes, Just Truth

My job as a writer isn’t to fix my characters.
It’s to show that broken people can still protect each other.
That they can still fall in love, make music, start over, or set the world on fire and call it hope.

Grief doesn’t have to be beautiful.
It doesn’t have to make sense.
It just has to be real.

✨ Final Thought: If You're Still Carrying Yours

If you’ve ever read something in House of Teeth and thought,
“That feels like me,” — then know this:

You’re not too much.
You’re not too far gone.
And your grief isn’t something to apologize for.

Not here.

You’re already part of the House.
And here, we carry it together.