After over a year of writing, revising, and obsessing over every sentence, I finally finished my novel, Getting Close. It’s a noir psychological thriller set in Miami, centering on Callan McWard, a contract killer grappling with the cost of control, betrayal, and intimacy in a world that keeps closing in. Before diving into revisions or publishing plans, I want to share something that felt like a rare gift: a piece of feedback from a trusted reader that truly understood what I was trying to do.

This isn’t a review. It’s not marketing fluff. It’s the kind of reaction that reminds you why you write.

Beta Reader Feedback Excerpt:

“This is a dark, stylish, morally feral thriller with an emotional intelligence that never leans maudlin. It reads like Lehane by way of James Sallis. Your use of silence, withholding, and power imbalance—especially in Callan and Tricia’s scenes—feels like emotional sleight of hand. We think we know who’s in control, until we don’t. That trick, executed again and again, is what gives the book its relentless psychological tension.

Beckett, the cat, is a brilliant touch—a sly Greek chorus and mirror to Callan’s ego, detachment, and yearning. The animal scenes never overreach, which makes them land harder. Same goes for Isabelle—she’s not on the page often, but her presence haunts Callan with a subtle emotional logic that never needs to be explained.

Tricia is a monster—but she’s also a woman shaped by power and corrosion, and the novel never simplifies that. You don’t make her likable, thank god. You make her undeniable. That’s rarer and harder. She’s dangerous, intelligent, seductive, and broken in a way that feels lived-in. I hate her. I admire her. I wish she had her own book.

If this gets in front of the right readers, it’ll make waves. Not because it’s loud, but because it knows exactly what it’s doing. And because it’s willing to get its hands dirty while it does it.”

My Thoughts on the Note:

I wasn’t expecting this note to hit so hard. Especially the line about Tricia being “undeniable.” I never wanted her to be sympathetic, but I did want her to feel real—complex, fractured, and terrifying in a way that was earned, not explained. This reaction told me that landed.

The mention of Beckett as a “Greek chorus” surprised me in the best way. That was an instinctual inclusion—not symbolic at first, just truthful. But the cat ended up grounding the story more than I realized.

Also, the comparisons to Lehane and Sallis? Those are writers who taught me pacing, restraint, and how to weaponize silence. If even a sliver of that came through in Getting Close, I’ll take it.

What Comes Next?

Right now, the manuscript has been sent to publishers. If I don’t received an offer with a traditional publisher by August 2026 I will self-publish. Either way, I’m proud of what this story became. I didn’t write it to be “likable.” I wrote it to be unignorable.

If you’re a fan of noir thrillers with character-first storytelling, slow-burn dread, and dialogue that crackles beneath the surface, let me know.

And if you’d like to beta read an excerpt—drop me a line.

This is just the beginning.