Inside My Twisted Writing Process: How I Create Psychological Thrillers That Refuse to Be Put Down

Hi, I’m Philip Anthony Smith, and I write psychological thrillers that—much like our toddler—refuse to be put down.

Since a lot of you have asked about my writing process, I thought I’d peel back the curtain and show you the method behind my madness. It’s a strange, messy, and sometimes terrifying process, but it’s also one I wouldn’t trade for the world.

Today, I’m doing something both exhilarating and mildly horrifying—I’m starting a brand-new book. Not just any book, but the final installment of The Forgotten Bride series: The Bride’s Salvation. So, what better time to walk you through my writing process than when I’m literally staring into the abyss of a blank document, praying for inspiration?

So grab a coffee (or something stronger), and let’s dive into the chaos.

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Plotter vs. Pantser:

Where Do I Stand?

Before we get into the nitty-gritty, let’s talk about how writers approach storytelling. There are two extremes on the spectrum:

• Plotters meticulously outline their novels before writing a single word. They have color-coded spreadsheets, character charts, and probably a conspiracy-board-level map of their story pinned to their walls. These people are scary.
• Pantsers (a term derived from “writing by the seat of your pants”) dive headfirst into their stories with no plan, no structure, just pure vibes. Also scary—but in a different, chaotic way.

Me? I exist somewhere in the unholy middle ground. I need structure, but I also need room to let the story breathe. If you tie me down with too much outlining, I start feeling like a caged animal. But if I go in completely blind, I end up staring at my screen, questioning my life choices.

So, my process is a blend of both. It starts with the big picture—the bones of the story—and then slowly morphs into a fully formed creature that I sometimes love, sometimes fear, but always obsess over.

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Step One:

Building the Skeleton

Every book starts with an idea—usually something that comes to me at an inconvenient time, like when I’m in the shower or desperately trying to sleep.

Once the idea lodges itself into my brain like an unshakable parasite, I start piecing together the bones of the story:

• Who are my main characters?
• Where does the story start?
• How do I want it to end? (Usually with someone gasping in horror.)

This phase is fast, loose, and all about setting up the big moments. I don’t need all the details yet—just the core of the story that I can build everything else around.

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Step Two:

The Beating Heart of the Story

Now that I have the skeleton, I need to add the organs—the stuff that makes the story feel alive.

This is when I start writing rough chapter outlines. Not too detailed (I don’t want to kill the creative spark), but enough so that I don’t completely lose the plot (literally).

Here’s what I ask myself:

• What needs to happen in each chapter?
• How do my characters evolve through these moments?
• How can I make things worse for them? (Because, let’s face it, a happy protagonist is a boring protagonist.)

This is where I start throwing in twists, emotional trauma, and the psychological warfare that will keep readers hooked. It’s like laying down the foundation before I start building the walls.

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Step Three:

The Muscles, Tendons, and Grisly Bits

With the heart in place, it’s time to start writing. This is the longest, most grueling part—like Frankenstein painstakingly stitching his monster together.

At this stage, my goal is momentum over perfection. First drafts are supposed to be messy, chaotic, and ugly. My only mission is to get the story out of my head and onto the page.

This is when the story starts forming connections I hadn’t planned—little breadcrumbs of foreshadowing, subtle character motivations, and unexpected plot twists.

This is also the phase where I regularly experience the following:

• Periods of extreme confidence, thinking I’m a literary genius.
• Crippling self-doubt, convinced I’ve written the worst book in existence.
• The overwhelming urge to abandon the book and take up beekeeping instead.

This cycle repeats about a hundred times before I reach the final chapter.

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Step Four:

Covering the Monster in Skin

By the time I finish the first draft, my book looks hideous. A grotesque, unpolished beast. But, like any good creator, I know it just needs a little work.

This is when I start revising, rewriting, and making it all flow like a real book.

• Fixing clunky sentences.
• Adding better metaphors.
• Making sure characters don’t randomly change names halfway through (it happens).

I smooth out the rough edges, adding rhythm and beauty to the prose, so it feels less like a jumble of words and more like an experience.

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Step Five:

Sending It to My Merciless Editor

Once I’ve reached the point where I think the book is good (or I’ve lost all objectivity and can’t stand looking at it anymore), I send it to my editor.

Now, my editor is a wizard. A merciless, detail-obsessed wizard who will:

• Find every typo, plot hole, and inconsistency I somehow missed.
• Question every decision I’ve ever made.
• Politely suggest that I rethink certain sections—meaning, “Philip, this is garbage, fix it.”

This part is painful but necessary. It’s like sending my child to a strict boarding school—it’ll come back more refined, but I know it’s going to get its ass kicked first.

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Step Six:

Dressing It Up and Kicking It Out the Door

Once the editing process is done, the book gets its final polish—a snazzy cover, a final proofread, and a fresh suit of marketing hype.

And then? I release it into the world, fully dressed and ready to be devoured.

This is where you come in.

Because after all that work, all the blood, sweat, and coffee-fueled meltdowns, I only have one hope: that you pick up my book, read it in one sitting, and then message me at 3 AM saying “WHAT DID I JUST READ?!”

That’s the dream.

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And Then… I Do It All Over Again

The second I release a book, a weird thing happens.

For about five minutes, I feel euphoric. I did it. The book is done.

And then? The itch starts again. A new idea sneaks in. And I find myself hovering over the dreaded ‘New Document’ button once more.

Because writing is an addiction, and I, my friends, am completely hooked.

Thanks for coming along for the ride. The Bride’s Salvation is officially underway. Stay tuned for updates, and in the meantime—if you haven’t read The Forgotten Bride series yet, now’s the time to catch up.

Because trust me… you’re going to want to be there for the finale.