Richard Holliday – Author

This week I’ve been working on the third draft of Ray of Light  – my American-themed thriller novel which I am aiming to publish in the first half of 2026. It hasn’t been the easiest edit but I’m glad to be making steady progress once more.

Yesterday, I was working on Chapter 9 which is around the mid-point of the book.

The Story So Far:

Alex has been approached by a large software company who want to buy a photo he took while at college. Originally, the company were running a contest, but the company’s CEO has hand-picked Alex’s photo himself. However, there is some strife over the ownership of the photo, and Tucker Collins – college football star and son of a shady lawyer – is trying to steal the photo to claim the prize himself. By this point, Alex has been pushed out of his comfort zone and the mounting intimidation and confrontation with Tucker and his goons has escalated into a break-in at his parents’ hardware store, which is under threat. Alongside this, Alex is coming to terms with the fact that the photograph has a much greater value than just the monetary value and that it’s something that Tucker and his underhand friends will seemingly stop at nothing to take possession of. He’s been forced to stay constantly alert and found that the life he had is now under material threat and the events he’s recovering from have only ramped up his anxiety.

In the scene excerpt below, Alex finally reaches a place where he can begin to feel safe and decompress after a long, tense day dealing with both the break-in and the escalation it represents:

I was particularly pleased with how this scene played out, especially after looking at my developmental editor’s feedback. Alex’s reaction to the stress he has been under is delayed, but significant, and his girlfriend Nicole, both recognises this and offers calm, practical support rather than interrogation or correction (which was more present in the initial version).

In Ray of Light I do not explicitly state that Alex is neurodivergent; however, autistic traits are present and I think this is a moment where they can bubble to the surface both naturally and in a convincing and understandable way. As someone who is autistic myself, I recognise these traits myself and I think they come through naturally onto the page without needing to be explicitly spelled out.

Alex’s distress at this moment centres on the knowledge that the contents of the envelope (plane tickets he has received to deliver the photograph in person to the software company in a faraway state) matter. His fidgeting with its placement acts as a form of emotional regulation. The pauses, the moments where his thinking clearly slows and loops, like he’s processing information, do a lot of the work without it having to be explained outright. I feel adding explicit commentary or “diagnostic” language would weaken this moment rather than strengthen it. It’s there for the reader to infer if they choose to.

I also wanted to emphasise Nicole’s response in this moment. She recognises what’s happening without demanding an explanation from Alex (this was less deftly achieved in the early draft of the scene). She offers support by gently redirecting rather than trying to “fix” or “correct” his behaviour. That dynamic is important to me and I’m glad to have included it here.

Crucially, I do not wave a big “ALEX IS AUTISTIC!” flag at the reader, nor do I use diagnostic language to emphasise this or an exposition dump to hark back to his past which the reader isn’t privy to. This moment isn’t the right one for that. Instead, as previously mentioned, the traits are there to be noticed – or not – and allowed to feel meaningcul either way. At this point in the story, Alex has been operating under sustained stress and the escalation of earlier in the chapter leaves him understandably frayed and vulnerable, and only once he reaches a place he feels relatively safe can he start to process and regulate these emotions – this is a moment showing what it’s like when the pressure is briefly relieved.

Reflecting on this scene, I think thrillers benefit from moments like this – where the pressure, which grows exponentially, is given a moment to breathe (as is the reader). While the stakes and consequences of the situation continue to escalate, characters need space to process what’s happening to them, if only for a brief moment. These quieter beats help to ground the tension and serve as a reminder that the emotional “cost” of these events isn’t abstract – it’s personal.

This scene reflects experiences I recognise from my own traits and I’m genuinely pleased with how it landed during my editing session yesterday. Call me understated but I’m rarely “proud” of my writing but I feel this was a rare moment of doing it right.