Tell us something about yourself that not many people know.
As a psychologist, I spend most of my time working with the mind. But being neurodivergent, I’m also deeply sensory and tactile – I find grounding and joy in working with my hands. Outside of work, I’m drawn to the feel of woodgrain under my fingertips. I restore old furniture, do pyrography and take on small woodwork projects. I even renovated my practice space myself – every wall, every detail shaped with intention. I also have a deep love for physical books. I often frequent op shops, picking up battered second-hand copies that feel like they still have stories left to tell. I restore or rebind them, giving them a second life—and sometimes, I re-donate them, hoping to increase their chances of being chosen again.

Why did you choose the themes in your book and were you aware of them from the start?
Initially, I wrote Reigning Fire just for fun – I wasn’t planning to publish it. A fantasy novel with an Asian, neurodivergent heroine felt like a niche within a niche. But at some point, I realised this story needed to be told. Neurodivergent people don’t just need more representation in research and advocacy; we need it in literature too. The world needs more neurodivergent heroines. And why not an Asian one, while we’re at it? I didn’t grow up seeing girls like me at the heart of fantasy stories. Too often, we’re cast as the wise guide, the silent sidekick, the “exotic” romantic interest or the misunderstood villain. We’re rarely allowed to be complex, powerful and messy – let alone the one the story belongs to.

How difficult was it for you to write this book? Did you face any obstacles?
Writing Reigning Fire wasn’t difficult at first, when I was just writing for fun, letting the story take me where it wanted. But the real challenges began the moment I made the decision to bring it into the world. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about enjoying the process. I felt responsible for shaping a story with emotional and political complexity, grounded worldbuilding, and neurodivergent representation that felt authentic without turning didactic. And because I wrote complex characters, that meant the protagonists had to be flawed and messy – but so did the antagonists. Getting into the minds of the so-called “villains” was one of the hardest parts. I wanted their actions to feel grounded in their unique world views, fears and values – not just cliché evil. Exploring the messy truths of human nature, and writing it with honesty, pushed me to my limits. On top of that, the book began to take over my life outside of work. My hyperfocus kicked in – I’d spend nights writing, entire weekends obsessing over a single scene, and I had no critique group to lean on or literary influencers on speed dial. Just me and this relentless, burning story that wouldn’t let go. But somehow, I kept going. One page at a time.

Do you always write in this genre or do you like to break out of the box?
Not at all! In fact, my first book was a non-fiction guide for late-identified neurodivergent adults, titled Nurturing Neurodivergence. It’s grounded in lived experience, evidence-based research and clinical insight drawn from my work as a psychologist. So, Reigning Fire was a huge leap into unfamiliar territory – and it definitely raised a few eyebrows. But I loved it so much it terrifies me a little. I’ve always been an avid reader of fantasy novels. In fact, growing up, I used to hide in my bathroom, so I could stay up late and read for fun. But I’d never thought I’d ever be publishing a fantasy novel. Writing fantasy let me explore neurodivergence, trauma and identity through metaphor and myth in ways that non-fiction never could. Switching genres challenged me to stretch creatively, but it also felt like coming home. I think stories can carry truths just as powerful as research articles or therapy sessions – sometimes even more so. I don’t know if I’ll ever stick to one genre. My ADHD brain is a double-edged sword – both a curse and blessing. What I do know is that I’ll keep writing stories that speak to the parts of us that feel overlooked, misunderstood, or out of place – no matter what shape those stories take.

What are your writing habits or idiosyncrasies?
Every book I write has its own playlist that I curated. I’m autistic, and one of my favourite ‘stims’ is listening to music (or playlists) on repeat. So when I’m deep in writing mode, I’ll often play the same 15 songs or so over and over again for months on end. It’s part of how I immerse myself in the emotional landscape of a story. My husband has learned to live with it… mostly. I think the Reigning Fire playlist nearly broke him. He swore he could hear it even when it’s no longer playing. To me, music is like emotional shorthand – it anchors me, regulates me and helps me shift gears between my work as a psychologist and my life as a writer. When a scene clicks, and the right track plays at the right moment? Magic. I also always have a very specific vision from the start – not just of the story/content, but of the reader’s experience. For Nurturing Neurodivergence, I knew I wanted it to be full of engaging infographics that made complex concepts easy to understand. For Reigning Fire, I envisioned Chinese calligraphy art woven throughout the pages – character names, key locations, important architecture – so readers wouldn’t just read the world, but really FEEL it. It’s not just about the words for me. It’s about curating an entire sensory and emotional journey. I want every part of the book – its visuals, textures, rhythm – to echo the soul of the story.

What would you do differently next time?
I think the autistic side of me tends to have a very strong and specific vision for how I want things to turn out – especially with creative projects. With Reigning Fire, I was quite wary about giving up too much creative control, so I chose not to work with a professional editor for this first book. That said, I’ve grown a lot through the process, and for the sequel, I’ve engaged an incredible professional editor who really gets the heart of the story. I’m genuinely excited to work with someone who can elevate the narrative while respecting the soul of the world I’ve created. Also, let’s face it: even with the crazy attention to detail of an autistic, copy-editing your own book will never end up with zero errors. So next time, I’m walking that line between autonomy and collaboration – with a lot more clarity.

What’s next for your writing?
This is the first time I’m announcing this publicly, but Reigning Fire is getting a sequel. Reigning Abyss is officially in the works. This book introduces Han, a brand new character who’s become one of my all-time favourites to write. The story builds on the emotional fallout from Reigning Fire, and yes, it’s nearly twice as long. It’s bigger, bolder, and – I believe – my best writing to date. I’m both excited and terrified (in the best of ways) to share it with the world. Thank you for these thoughtful questions, and for helping share my voice and story with your community.