Writing First 100 Pages of The Neverland Wars Has Transformed My Vision
With the first 100 pages of my debut novel The Neverland Wars written, my vision for the story has transformed in ways I never anticipated. Here’s what changed:
Surprising Character Developments
There’s a popular belief among writers that the author doesn’t control the plot—the characters do. This is true enough. For me, writing is a co-creative process between myself, my characters, and the creative energy of the universe. The story constantly surprises me, taking unexpected turns that deviate from my original vision, but that’s part of the magic.
I love the adventure of discovering the world and the characters’ journeys in real time. What began as small snippets of dialogue between Tinker Bell and Captain Hook, shared alongside my inking process on Instagram, has evolved into something much bigger. Initially, these scenes accompanied my “All Bad” and “Hooked on You” illustrations, but when I started illustrating Peter Pan, I realized I was revisiting an idea I had shelved years ago—a darker retelling of Peter Pan.
Now, Tinker Bell stands as the protagonist, Peter Pan as the antagonist, and Captain Hook as the love interest. Familiar characters like Mr. Smee, Tiger Lily, the Darling children, and the Lost Boys play pivotal roles, but they’ve all taken on a deeper, more nuanced dimension. What started a little more lighthearted has grown darker, layered with deep psychological tension and mystery.
Tinker Bell, in particular, has evolved far beyond the traditional fairy archetype. She’s a multifaceted character, oscillating between pragmatism and compassion, wrestling with both a fear of her own power and a desire to wield it. This complexity has allowed her to grow into a more dynamic, relatable figure than J.M. Barrie’s original portrayal in Peter Pan and Wendy.
This journey has been both unpredictable and exhilarating, and I can’t wait to see where the story leads next.
How Jungian Psychology Shaped The Neverland Wars
Shadow work has been a transformative part of my life for over a decade, but it became especially pivotal in early 2022. During a challenging period of recovery from a physical disability, shadow work not only helped me heal but also reshaped how I understood myself. This deep personal journey of confronting repressed parts of my psyche gave me profound insight into psychological fragmentation—an idea I knew would be central to my book.
When I began writing this story, I saw Peter Pan's separation from his shadow as more than a plot device. It became a powerful metaphor for psychological repression and the consequences of ignoring one’s shadow self. Jungian psychology, particularly his concepts of the shadow and the unconscious mind, heavily influenced my approach to worldbuilding and character development.
Interestingly, it wasn’t until a period of intense rest and reflection that everything clicked. In a half-dream state, ideas about how to integrate these concepts into my story poured in. I kept my phone nearby, jotting down notes between bouts of sleep. These moments reshaped the narrative in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
While I’m not ready to reveal specifics, I can say that my understanding of worldbuilding was also enhanced by an unexpected source: Khan Academy’s Imagineering in a Box course. Its principles of theme park design, which I explored in 2020, helped me think more deeply about how to craft immersive, thematic elements in my fictional world.
Shadow work, Jungian psychology, and a touch of Imagineering—it’s all woven into the fabric of this story, and I can’t wait to share more as it unfolds.
Crafting Tinker Bell’s World from Fairy Folklore
As I wrote, it became clear that Tinker Bell’s people couldn’t just be “the fairies” or “the fair folk”—they needed depth and history. Why did Tinker Bell run away from home? What kind of society did she leave behind? Such questions required answers, and this meant diving into folklore.
Fairy folklore has roots older than written history, far beyond the modern image of tiny, winged beings. Fairies range from benevolent helpers to tricksters and even malevolent forces. Some creatures we don’t typically associate with fairies, like leprechauns, belong to the fair folk in Irish folklore. While one theory suggests leprechauns are the offspring of fairies and dwarves, folklore is often fluid, with no single explanation universally accepted.
Much of European fairy lore originates in pre-Christian Celtic and Gaelic traditions. The Aos Sí ("ees shee")—spirits of nature or ancestors—were believed to live in mounds, hills, or ancient burial sites. In Norse mythology, similar beings, known as Alfar (elves) and Huldufólk (hidden people), represented both light and dark aspects of nature. I’m especially drawn to the idea of "hidden people"—there’s something delightfully eerie about that name.
As Christianity spread across Europe, fairy folklore evolved. Fairies were often demonized or reimagined as fallen angels, neither good enough for Heaven nor evil enough for Hell. Later, the Brothers Grimm collected many fairytales we know today, but it was J.R.R. Tolkien who reshaped modern fantasy, grounding his depiction of elves and fair folk in Norse and Celtic mythology. This blend of historical folklore and modern storytelling has given fairies a depth that feels authentic—a quality I both love reading and incorporating into my own work.
One aspect of folklore that captivated me was the division between the Seelie Court and Unseelie Court. The Seelie are mischievous but generally benevolent, while the Unseelie are darker and more malevolent. This natural conflict between light and dark fit perfectly into my evolving story and sparked a major breakthrough.
In one pivotal scene, Tinker Bell and her best friend, Nibs (a Lost Boy), venture deep into the Neverwood. Their journey couldn’t be straightforward—they needed a challenge. I researched malevolent creatures and found one born of nightmares and rot. After the encounter, Tinker Bell reflects on her last brush with the Unseelie Court and the two fairies who changed her profoundly, planting the seeds for a deeper conflict.
Weaving folklore into my writing is like solving a mystery only I know the answer to. The research is intoxicating, and it brings a richness to the story that excites me. I can’t wait to see how these elements continue to shape Tinker Bell’s journey—and my own—through this book and beyond.
A Deeper Understanding of the Core Conflict
By blending Jungian psychology, fairy folklore, and the existing lore of Peter Pan, I’ve created a rich, multifaceted backdrop to explore deeper themes. The story delves into the corruption of innocence and eternal youth, the shadow self and inner darkness, manipulation and control, betrayal and trust, resistance and rebellion, trauma and healing, love and redemption, and the parallel decay of nature and morality tied to power.
At its heart, this story also emphasizes the loss of innocence, the complexities of growing up, and the rise of female empowerment and leadership. Through these elements, I’m crafting a world and conflict designed to resonate with readers who are reclaiming their power, facing their shadows, and becoming the person they were always meant to be—despite the odds.
