Category: Print Book

A Phone Anxiety Thriller Series Dictation in Progress

When the Terror in My Mind Has to Go Somewhere: Writing the Phone Anxiety Thriller Series

There are books I write because I’ve a story to tell. And then there are books I write because the story will not leave me alone. My Phone Anxiety Thriller series has become the latter. What began with the idea of turning something deeply uncomfortable, the fear and dread surrounding telephone communication, into suspense has grown into four novels: Where Voices Go to Hide, A Frequency of Secrets, Call Waiting, and Every Recording Has a Ghost.

Writing them has been challenging but also strangely addicting. So much so that it’s kept me up nights and driven me during the day as well. Sleep has been minimal for the past two months. Maybe that’s because these books don’t begin entirely with imagination but in the part of my mind that already understands what it feels like for a telephone to become something larger than a telephone.

For someone without phone anxiety, a ringing phone is simply a sound. For someone with it, that sound can become a warning.

  • Who is calling?
  • Why are they calling?
  • What happened?
  • What am I going to have to say?
  • What if I say the wrong thing?
  • What if something is wrong?
  • What if this call changes everything?

And sometimes the most frightening question is simply: What if I answer? That endless succession of possibilities is where these novels live.

Where Voices Go to Hide

Where Voices Go to Hide began with Elena Sterling, a woman who has spent much of her life avoiding telephone calls because talking on the phone creates something far more complicated than ordinary nervousness. In Elena’s world, she can hear what people are hiding beneath their spoken words. That premise allowed me to exaggerate something very real about anxiety: the constant attempt to interpret what another person really means.

  • A pause becomes suspicious.
  • A change in tone becomes evidence.
  • A delayed answer becomes meaningful.

A sentence gets replayed over and over long after the conversation has ended. Anxiety is extraordinarily talented at filling silence.

For Elena, those imagined spaces become literal. What she hears beneath conversations draws her into secrets, manipulation, disappearing women, and questions about whether the people closest to her can be trusted. But underneath the thriller is something much more familiar to me: the exhausting experience of analyzing communication until communication itself becomes frightening.

A Frequency of Secrets

Then came A Frequency of Secrets, which pushed the idea further.

Somerset Kinsley encounters voices beneath voices, versions of people who seem younger, older, frightened, dying, or ready to confess things they have never said aloud. The telephone becomes almost archaeological.

  • Every conversation contains another layer.
  • Every voice contains another possibility.
  • Every call might mean more than it appears to mean.

That concept came naturally because anxiety works much the same way. An anxious mind rarely accepts the first explanation. It digs. Then it digs beneath what it just discovered. Then it questions whether it should have been digging at all.

  • Someone says, “Everything is fine.” Anxiety asks: But why did they say it like that?
  • Someone does not return a call. Anxiety asks: What happened?
  • Someone calls unexpectedly. Anxiety asks: Why me? Why now?

By the time the mind has finished constructing possibilities, an ordinary situation can feel like the opening scene of a murder mystery. For a thriller writer, unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, that is fertile ground.

Every Recording Has a Ghost

Then came Every Recording Has a Ghost. By this point I’d become fascinated not only with live telephone conversations but with recorded voices. A recording is supposedly fixed. The words have already been spoken. Nothing about them should change. And yet anyone who has ever replayed a voicemail, conversation, or recording while anxious knows that the experience can change every time you hear it. You notice another pause. Another breath, hesitation, and inflection. You begin wondering what happened immediately before the recording or immediately afterward.

You listen for what was not said. That became fertile territory for Every Recording Has a Ghost. The “ghost” doesn’t have to be something supernatural.

  • Sometimes the ghost is memory.
  • Sometimes it’s trauma.
  • Sometimes it’s guilt.
  • Sometimes it’s the person we were when something happened.
  • Sometimes it’s simply the meaning we attach to a voice because we can’t stop listening.

And sometimes what haunts a recording is the knowledge that whoever made it knew something we don’t.

Call Waiting

With Call Waiting, I found myself becoming even more interested in what happens psychologically before, during, and after telephone communication. Waiting can sometimes be worse than answering. There’s the anticipation of the phone ringing. The knowledge that someone may call. The uncertainty surrounding what they might say. The feeling that communication is approaching and there’s nowhere to hide from it. That is one of the reasons phone anxiety fascinates me so much as a foundation for psychological suspense. The terror does not require anything to actually happen. Anticipation can generate its own terror. The mind is capable of constructing an entire catastrophe while the telephone remains perfectly silent.

Call Waiting explores that psychological territory—the uncertainty, the listening, the expectation, and the terrible possibilities our minds manufacture when information is incomplete. Sometimes silence isn’t peaceful. Sometimes silence is where anxiety becomes loudest.

 

The Challenging Part of Writing These Books

Writing these novels hasn’t always been easy because I have to spend time inside thought patterns I already understand too well. Thriller writers deliberately ask themselves terrible questions.

  • What is the worst thing that could happen?
  • What is behind the door?
  • Who is lying?
  • Who can’t be trusted?
  • What does this clue really mean?
  • What happens if the protagonist is wrong?

Unfortunately, anxiety asks remarkably similar questions. That means there are moments when writing this series feels less like inventing fear and more like opening a door that is already inside my mind. Once I open it, everything comes rushing through. Ideas connect rapidly. One possibility produces another. A telephone call becomes a secret. The secret becomes a disappearance. The disappearance becomes a recording. The recording becomes evidence. The evidence becomes questionable. And suddenly I have fallen fifty pages into another psychological nightmare. That’s the challenging part. It’s also the addictive part.

I Have to Put the Terror Somewhere

There is something surprisingly freeing about giving anxiety a fictional destination. When frightening possibilities remain inside the mind, they can circle endlessly. On paper, they have somewhere to go. I can give them a house, a character, a telephone, a detective, a cassette, a recording, a crime, a beginning, and, eventually, an ending.

Perhaps that’s why I continue returning to this series. The terror in my mind has to get onto paper before it overtakes me. Writing gives it boundaries. Instead of allowing every what if to remain an unanswered question, I can turn the question into a plot.

One anxious question leads to another. Apparently, in my case, one anxious question also leads to another novel.

Why I Keep Writing the Phone Anxiety Thrillers

I don’t know that I will ever run out of material because phone anxiety isn’t simply about being afraid to make a telephone call. It can involve anticipation, avoidance, physical panic, obsessive thinking, rehearsing conversations, replaying conversations afterward, worrying about tone, imagining consequences, and constructing elaborate scenarios around very little information.

Those experiences are uncomfortable in real life. In fiction, they are almost perfectly designed for psychological suspense. A thriller depends upon uncertainty. So does anxiety. A thriller depends upon anticipation. So does anxiety. A thriller asks the reader to wonder what happens next. Anxiety does that relentlessly. Writing these books allows me to take that machinery and use it for something creative.

The fear still feels real. The thoughts can still arrive faster than I can organize them. But once they become Somerset’s problem, or Elena’s problem, or another character standing beside a ringing telephone wondering whether to answer it, they’ve entered another world. They’ve become fiction. And maybe that is the strangest thing I’ve learned from writing four Phone Anxiety Thrillers. The same mind that can frighten me can also create. The same imagination capable of constructing the worst possible outcome is capable of constructing an entire novel. So I keep writing. Because sometimes the phone rings inside your mind long before it rings in the room. And sometimes the only way I know how to silence it is to answer it on the page.

When the Brain Hears Danger: Auditory Processing, Trauma, and the Story Behind It

Sound is supposed to be simple. A phone rings, someone speaks, music plays in another room, or a door closes somewhere down the hall. We hear it, recognize it, and move on. But the act of hearing is far more complicated than sound entering our ears. The brain has to separate competing noises, recognize patterns, attach meaning to words, decide what deserves attention, and discard what doesn’t. When something interferes with that process, a perfectly ordinary sound can become confusing, exhausting, overwhelming, or quite possibly, even threatening.

That territory fascinated me while writing my newest novel, Call Waiting. In the novel, Londyn Andrews begins hearing voices when she’s placed on hold. Doctors attempt to explain what is happening to her as auditory processing trauma. In Londyn’s world, that explanation seems almost reasonable. Until the voices begin saying things they shouldn’t possibly know.

Before talking about the fiction, though, I wanted to explore the very real science underneath it. First, an Important Distinction: Auditory processing trauma isn’t an established medical diagnosis. I use the phrase fictionally in Call Waiting because it describes the intersection I wanted to explore: trauma, memory, attention, fear, and the way the brain interprets sound.

There are, however, several very real conditions and phenomena that overlap with this idea. One is Auditory Processing Disorder, often called APD or Central Auditory Processing Disorder. A person with APD may have normal hearing on a standard hearing test but still have difficulty making sense of auditory information. The problem is not necessarily whether the ears can detect the sound. It is what the nervous system does with that sound afterward.

The American Speech-Language-Hearing Association describes central auditory processing as involving the brain’s ability to discriminate sounds, determine where sounds originate, recognize auditory patterns, process timing information, and understand speech when competing or degraded sounds are present.

Trauma introduces another layer. Research involving post-traumatic stress has found differences in sensory and cognitive processing, including heightened responsiveness to threatening or unexpected stimuli, exaggerated startle responses, hypervigilance, difficulty filtering irrelevant information, and altered responses to auditory stimuli. In other words, sometimes the problem isn’t simply: Can I hear this? It can become: What does my brain think this sound means? That question became central to Call Waiting.

How Many People Are Affected? This is where numbers become complicated. Because diagnostic criteria for APD vary considerably, prevalence estimates vary too. Reviews have estimated APD at roughly 0.5–1% of the general population, while some estimates among children fall around 2–5%. Prevalence also appears to increase substantially among older adults, although estimates differ depending upon how auditory processing difficulties are defined and tested.

A 2026 review emphasized an important problem: there’s still considerable disagreement about diagnostic criteria, particularly in children, and APD symptoms can overlap with language disorders, attention difficulties, dyslexia, and other conditions. Adult prevalence is even harder to pin down. Research has produced widely varying estimates, and standardized information for adults younger than sixty remains limited.

There also isn’t a reliable prevalence figure for “trauma-related auditory processing problems” as one unified condition, because that isn’t a single diagnosis. Trauma may instead appear through PTSD symptoms, hypervigilance, sound sensitivity, tinnitus, hyperacusis, concentration problems, or difficulty filtering sensory information. That uncertainty interested me as a novelist. There are experiences people can describe very clearly even when medicine doesn’t have one convenient label that explains them all.

When Does It Begin? Auditory processing difficulties can have different origins. Some appear developmentally during childhood. Others may emerge or become more noticeable later in life. Acquired auditory-processing problems have been associated with neurological illness, aging, and traumatic brain injury.

ASHA notes that auditory problems following traumatic brain injury can include difficulty listening in background noise, maintaining attention, remembering spoken information, and following multistep verbal instructions. Importantly, those symptoms may arise from auditory-processing deficits, broader cognitive effects of brain injury, emotional conditions such as PTSD, or some combination of them.

Psychological trauma presents a different mechanism. Someone with PTSD may become unusually alert to environmental cues associated with danger. A sound that another person barely registers—a slammed door, footsteps, an alarm, a particular tone of voice—may trigger an intense physiological response because the nervous system has learned an association between that sound and threat. Research into PTSD has repeatedly documented exaggerated startle and hypervigilance, including heightened responses to unexpected noises. The ears may be functioning normally, but the brain is simply no longer treating the sound as neutral.

What Can It Feel Like? Auditory-processing difficulties don’t look identical from person to person, but commonly reported problems can include:

* difficulty understanding speech when several people are talking
* trouble following rapid speech
* needing people to repeat themselves
* difficulty following lengthy verbal directions
* struggling to understand conversation in restaurants or other noisy places
* confusing similar sounds or words
* feeling mentally exhausted from listening
* difficulty determining where a sound came from
* remembering only portions of something that was said

APD can exist even when standard hearing thresholds appear normal. Trauma-related auditory reactions can feel different. Hypervigilance may cause someone to continually scan the environment for sound. Unexpected noises may produce an exaggerated startle response. Certain sounds may become emotionally loaded because they are associated with previous experiences.

There are also separate sound-tolerance conditions such as hyperacusis, in which ordinary sounds can seem painfully or intolerably loud; misophonia, involving intense reactions to particular sounds; phonophobia, involving fear of sounds; and broader noise sensitivity. These terms describe different experiences and shouldn’t be treated as interchangeable.

Researchers have even documented persistent sound hypersensitivity following head trauma, accompanied in some patients by concentration problems, memory difficulties, anxiety, and increased sensitivity to stress. That combination—sound, memory, anxiety, interpretation—is precisely the space where fiction began taking over for me.

The Belief That “I’m Hearing Things”: One of the most interesting aspects of auditory perception is how rapidly the brain turns sound into meaning. We don’t experience speech as a collection of frequencies. We experience a person saying something. The brain fills gaps, predicts, filters, compares incoming information with memory, and decides which sound matters and which can disappear into the background. That can create a frightening disconnect when someone knows that they heard something but can’t understand why everyone else seems to have experienced the same environment differently.

It is important, however, not to equate auditory-processing problems with hallucinations. APD concerns difficulty processing actual auditory information. Hallucinations involve perceiving sound without a corresponding external auditory stimulus. Trauma responses, tinnitus, hearing disorders, neurological conditions, medication effects, sleep deprivation, and psychiatric conditions can produce very different auditory experiences, which is why unexplained symptoms deserve proper medical evaluation rather than self-diagnosis. But as a novelist, I became interested in the terrifying question between those categories: What happens when someone can no longer determine which explanation fits?

Can Trauma Change the Way We Listen? Research increasingly suggests that stress can influence auditory perception. A 2026 review examining acute and chronic stress described evidence that stress can influence auditory processing through multiple neural mechanisms, including interactions involving auditory networks and brain regions involved in emotion and threat detection. The authors emphasized that chronic stress may produce longer-lasting changes in auditory coding and perception.

Research on PTSD has likewise found abnormalities in attention to auditory information and in the brain’s response to both trauma-related and neutral sounds. This doesn’t mean trauma routinely causes people to hear nonexistent voices. It means something subtler and perhaps more fascinating. Trauma can change what the brain notices, ignores, labels as dangerous, and how strongly it reacts.

How Are Auditory Processing Problems Treated? There’s no single treatment because there’s no single presentation. For diagnosed APD, ASHA describes three broad management approaches that are frequently used together: modifying the listening environment, directly training specific auditory skills, and teaching compensatory strategies that help a person recover information they may have missed. That might mean reducing competing background noise, improving the quality of the auditory signal, using visual information along with spoken instructions, requesting repetition or clarification, strengthening memory and attention strategies, or undertaking individualized auditory training. Treatment should be tailored to the person’s specific deficits rather than assuming everyone with listening difficulties needs the same intervention.

When trauma or PTSD is contributing to sensory hyperarousal, treatment targets the trauma itself rather than treating the experience simply as an auditory disorder. The VA/DoD clinical guidelines identify Cognitive Processing Therapy, Prolonged Exposure, and EMDR among the trauma-focused psychotherapies with the strongest research support for PTSD.

Someone experiencing new or unexplained changes in hearing, speech comprehension, sound tolerance, memory, or auditory perception should begin with a qualified healthcare professional. Depending on the symptoms, evaluation may involve an audiologist as well as neurological, psychological, speech-language, or other specialists.

And Then There Is Call Waiting. This is where I allowed reality to open the door for fiction. Londyn Andrews doesn’t hear the voices during ordinary conversation. She hears them when she’s on hold. That strange suspended place between dialing and speaking, connection and disconnection, and someone being there and no one answering.

At first, there are explanations: stress, trauma, and an auditory-processing problem. Something her brain is constructing from fragments of sound. Londyn wants to believe those explanations because they belong to a world she understands. Then the voices become specific. They belong to people in hospital rooms, accident scenes, motel bathrooms, near bridges and dark water, which are all instances where people may be suspended somewhere between life and death.

And eventually the impossible becomes personal. Londyn’s estranged mother, Georgia Bickford, enters hospice. While Londyn is waiting on another call, she hears a voice she knows immediately. Her own. Not the woman she is now. The girl she used to be. And that younger version of Londyn gives her a warning: Get the truth before your mother dies.

Suddenly, Call Waiting becomes about much more than mysterious voices. It’s about the things families refuse to say. The memories we reinterpret in order to survive them. The way childhood experiences can remain buried until some tiny sensory detail—a voice, a ring, a click, a few seconds of silence—brings everything rushing back. And the terrifying possibility that sometimes what we dismiss as noise contains the thing we’ve spent our entire lives trying not to hear.

The Brain Is Always Listening. The real science of auditory processing is fascinating precisely because hearing isn’t passive. Our brains constantly sort, prioritize, predict, interpret, and connect sound with memory. Trauma can complicate that process. Neurological conditions can complicate it. Attention can complicate it. Age, injury, stress, environment, and emotion can all influence the experience of listening.

The forthcoming fiction novel Call Waiting takes that reality and pushes it beyond the boundary of what science can explain. Because Londyn’s greatest problem isn’t that she hears voices. It is that eventually she has to decide whether they are symptoms or witnesses. And whether the one voice she has spent her whole life avoiding belongs to her mother, the dead, or herself.

A Frequency of Secrets: A Phone Anxiety Thriller

Finishing A Frequency of Secrets Earlier Than Expected

I finished A Frequency of Secrets earlier than I expected. The words came quickly, but not because the story was easy to write. They came quickly because the subject lives so close to me mentally. The fears, the spiraling thoughts, the imagined conversations, and the constant anticipation of what might happen next were already familiar territory and kept me up nights.

Have you ever wondered what goes on in the mind of someone with phone anxiety—the chaos, confusion, and constant what-ifs? For someone who suffers from phone anxiety, a ringing phone is rarely just a ringing phone. It can become a warning, a confrontation, a piece of bad news, or the beginning of a situation that hasn’t even happened. Elaborate thoughts arise before the call is answered. Connections are made between events that may have nothing to do with one another. A delayed response can feel like rejection. An unknown number can become a threat. A brief silence on the other end can open the door to dozens of worst-case scenarios.

Phone anxiety can also be intensely physical. It can bring panic, sweating, heart palpitations, nausea, tension, and the overwhelming urge to avoid the call altogether. Yet the mental symptoms can be just as consuming. The mind inflates ordinary circumstances into disasters. It rehearses every possible outcome, searches for hidden meanings, and prepares for problems that may never exist. A Frequency of Secrets was written by someone who understands that experience.

The novel reveals what can happen inside a phone-anxiety-stricken mind, where fear alters perception and creates connections that otherwise might not exist. In the story, voices, calls, secrets, and imagined possibilities begin to overlap. The telephone becomes more than an object. It becomes a source of dread, suspicion, memory, and uncertainty. It’s an emotional closeness so much so that I didn’t have to search very far for the feelings behind the story. The anxiety was already there. The physical sensations were familiar. The habit of turning a small uncertainty into a much larger possibility was familiar. Once I entered that mindset on the page, the words flowed freely and consistently.

A Frequency of Secrets is part of my new series, A Phone Anxiety Thriller. This series is especially close to me because its psychological foundation comes from an experience I know intimately. The connections to phone anxiety seem to run through my veins. Every unanswered call, imagined emergency, misunderstood silence, and intrusive possibility offers another pathway into suspense.

These novels are not simply about telephones. They’re about anticipation, what the mind creates while waiting for someone to answer, the stories we invent when we don’t have enough information, and how quickly those stories can begin to feel real. Below is the cover (from the Ukrainian graphic designers at GetCovers) of the next in the series, because having the cover prompts mental engagement and the need to get words onto paper.

Writing this series allows me to take something that has caused genuine discomfort in my own life and transform it into fiction. On the page, anxiety becomes atmosphere. Avoidance becomes tension. Racing thoughts become clues, suspicions, and dangerous possibilities.

Finishing A Frequency of Secrets quickly made sense. I was writing from a place that was already deeply known to me. I understood the fear before I understood the plot. I recognized the emotional rhythms before I wrote the scenes. Once locked into that world, I stayed awake nights trying to get the characters’ anticipation out of my system because of the emotional intensity. This series may be fictional, but the anxiety beneath it is real to me.

Now Available: Where Voices Go to Hide

 

A Haunting New Phone-Anxiety Thriller by Angela Grey


What happens when every telephone call reveals more than the person on the other end intends to say? Where Voices Go to Hide, the first novel in Angela Grey’s new Phone Anxiety Thriller series, is now available.

Elena Sterling has always dreaded answering the phone. The ringing triggers an immediate surge of fear—the racing heart, tightened chest, shallow breathing, and overwhelming urge to let the call go unanswered. But Elena’s fear is not simply ordinary phone anxiety. When she finally answers, she hears two voices. One belongs to the person speaking. The other reveals what they are trying desperately to conceal. Buried beneath polite greetings and carefully chosen words, Elena hears fragments of terror, guilt, resentment, and violence. She hears thoughts that were never meant to leave the safety of another person’s mind.

Then an unknown woman calls Elena’s fiancé. The woman’s voice sounds controlled, but beneath it Elena hears panic. She also hears a thought belonging to her fiancé, Theo Lockhart: Not again. Those two words open the door to a pattern of missing women, carefully protected secrets, and a past Theo refuses to explain. As Elena begins questioning everything she believed about the man she loves, the telephone becomes both her greatest source of evidence and the instrument of her deepest fear. Every call brings her closer to the truth. Every voice gives her another reason not to trust anyone. And someone already knows what Elena can hear.

A Thriller Born from a Real Fear 

Where Voices Go to Hide was inspired in part by my own experience with phone anxiety, sometimes called telephobia. For people who experience it, an incoming call can cause genuine emotional and physical distress. The sound of a ringing telephone may trigger dread, racing thoughts, nausea, trembling, difficulty breathing, or an intense fear of saying the wrong thing. Even listening to a voicemail or returning a routine call can feel overwhelming.

I wanted to explore what might happen if someone already terrified of telephone conversations suddenly had an even greater reason to fear answering. What if every caller carried a hidden voice? What if silence felt safer—but answering was the only way to stop something terrible?

About the Novel

Blending psychological suspense, relationship secrets, missing-person mystery, and the claustrophobic fear of unwanted communication, Where Voices Go to Hide follows a woman whose unusual ability forces her to confront truths that others have spent years concealing. The novel explores:

Phone anxiety and the fear of unexpected communication
Secrets hidden within intimate relationships
The difference between spoken words and private intentions
Manipulation, obsession, and buried guilt
The dangerous consequences of believing you alone can hear the truth

This is a dark, atmospheric thriller for readers who enjoy morally complicated characters, unsettling domestic secrets, psychological tension, and stories in which the person uncovering the mystery may be hiding something too.

The Beginning of a New Series

Where Voices Go to Hide introduces the Phone Anxiety Thriller series, a collection of suspense novels centered on telephone calls, concealed voices, private fears, and the terrible things people reveal when they believe no one can hear what they are truly thinking.

The next installment, A Frequency of Secrets, is currently in development. The telephone may stop ringing. The voices do not.

Get Your Copy

Where Voices Go to Hide by Angela Grey is now available in paperback and ebook formats. Step into Elena Sterling’s world—but think carefully before answering the next call. Some voices speak aloud. Others wait beneath the words. And some truths should never be heard.

Echoes Along the Shore book release

The forests whisper, rivers bleed, and Superior keeps its echoes. Campers think they’re hunting a killer, but the wilderness hides more than storms. In the mist, one truth cuts clear: the danger is already among them.

Some places keep secrets. This one keeps the dead.

Echoes Along the Shore is a place-driven psychological thriller where the landscape exerts agency, truth emerges through pattern recognition, and survival is both the protagonist’s greatest strength—and her most dangerous liability. The same instincts that kept her alive are pulling her deeper

They came for fresh air, campfires, and peace.
They found that some campers won’t survive the weekend.
And one of them may never have planned to.

On the edge of Lake Superior, the next echo could be your last.

After surviving a string of brutal murders in their hometown, Leah, Nick, and Jake escape north, hoping the vast wilderness of Minnesota’s Arrowhead region will offer peace to forest bathe. Instead, the forests of Tettegouche and the roaring rivers bleeding into the great lake draw them into a nightmare more cunning than anything they left behind.

Gripping, atmospheric, and merciless, Echoes Along the Shore is a psychological survival thriller that asks: what if the deadliest predator isn’t lurking in the woods at all, but stoking a fire nearby?

Perfect for readers of atmospheric psychological thrillers, survival suspense, and character-driven mysteries set against the haunting landscapes of the western Great Lakes & upper Midwest, where the lake has already decided what it will give back .

North of Ordinary: Short Stories That Live in the Quiet Between Things

A Midwestern atmospheric literary fiction collection rooted in place, season, and complicated lives

Some towns don’t change. They just learn how to hide it better.
In the northern Midwest, ordinary lives bend quietly, until they don’t.

In the quiet towns and backroads of the northern Midwest, nothing stays buried forever.

Set against apple orchards, corn mazes, gravel roads, and wind-cut fields, North of Ordinary is a literary short story collection that traces the

Blending contemporary literary fiction with the textures of rural America, this collection captures the quiet drama of people caught between obligation and desire, memory and reinvention. Each story is grounded in Midwestern landscapes—where the air carries cider, dust, and something unsaid—and where even the smallest decision can echo.

Perfect for readers who love:

  • character-driven fiction and emotionally resonant storytelling
  • small town drama and layered relationships
  • atmospheric literary fiction with a strong sense of place
  • coming-of-age themes, family tension, and quiet unravelings
  • the work of Elizabeth Strout, Annie Proulx, and Raymond Carver

North of Ordinary is a collection about what lingers—
in towns that remember,
in families that fracture and hold,
and in the long, quiet moment before a life changes course.

Thrillers of survival. Dark fairytales of resilience.

Welcome. I’m Angela Ellen Grey — author, artist, and a believer in the kind of stories that make you feel your pulse.

 

I write for the girls who stayed awake.
For the ones who walked home alone.
For the dreamers who step through the wrong doorway and discover they’re stronger than anyone expected.

Every story is a doorway.
Some we hesitate to open.
Some we run through screaming.
Some are carved inside us —
until we become the threshold.

🔪 The Dakota Killer Thrillers

Everything she survived made her dangerous.
The kind of girl who lives through one killer doesn’t run from the next.

Meet Laci O’Neil — survivor, sister, reluctant fighter. She doesn’t go looking for trouble…, but in the Dakotas, trouble finds girls like her. Each book uncovers a new predator hiding behind the quiet of small towns and wide-open land. Different killers. Same silence. Laci refuses to look away.

If you love:

  • Missing girls who get found because someone refuses to stop searching
  • Rural noir with teeth
  • Survivors who aren’t done fighting

This is your next obsession.

📚 Start with: Long Since Buried
➡️ Continue the hunt in Since You’ve Been Gone
🩸 Forthcoming: Ghosted Buried Gone + Long Since Drowned

🌙 The Dreamcatcher Dark Fantasy Series

What if your nightmares were looking back?

Dash never meant to touch the dreamcatcher her grandmother made — but once she falls into Baumwelt, a dark, enchanted world stitched from fear and forgotten tales, nothing will ever be safe again.
Not in the dreams.
Not in the waking.

Because some dreams protect you.
Others hunt you.

If you crave:

  • Creepy forests and whispered warnings
  • Indigenous-inspired magic realism
  • Fairytales with bite

Let me show you the stairway through the clouds.

📚 Begin with: Dreamcatcher: A Hidden World Fairy Tale Fantasy

✨ Why I Write These Stories

My worlds are shaped by the land — the plains, the rivers, the woods that hold secrets older than we are, by the whispers of the ancestors. By the too-real fears we try to outgrow, by the ordinary girls who choose to fight back anyway.

Whether the monster is a man
or a shadow made of teeth —
My characters rise.

Because survival isn’t just making it out alive.
It’s refusing to stay silent afterward.

🔗 Join the Journey

Be the first to know when the next body is found —
or the next portal opens.

📬 Join my newsletter for exclusive bonus stories, case files, and dream-lore.
🎤 Book clubs and libraries — I’d love to visit.

Thanks for stepping into the dark with me.
Let’s leave the lights off a little longer. 🌑✨

“Whimsy and Bliss” by Angela Grey

 

Shady Oak Press (2025)
ISBN: 978-1961841468
Reviewed by Stephanie Elizabeth Long for Reader Views (09/2025)

Abigail Whimsy and Lainey Bliss have been best friends since the second grade. Like yin and yang, their opposites somehow fit together like errant puzzle pieces. Whimsy exists in a world of vibrant dreams and imagination, while Lainey is pragmatic and even-keeled, which anchors Abigail. Because nothing good can last forever, the girls have one final summer together before Lainey goes off to a fancy college, leaving Abigail behind.

Before Lainey leaves, Abigail has devised a plan. They will create a map (complete with a detailed legend) and explore all the mysteries of their town—dismantle the “thin” places, using her late grandmother’s journal (chaotic musings) as a guide.

As they delve deeper into the journey, Abigail’s reality becomes skewed, and Lainey’s attempts to keep her friend’s sanity in check become more difficult. The places they visit awaken a humming within Abigail, and the more they add to the map, the louder the hum becomes.

Whimsy and Bliss is a coming-of-age literary masterpiece. Angela Gray’s writing is known for its vivid imagery and deep metaphors, and this novel is no exception. Readers will quickly be immersed in Abigail’s world of wanderlust, where magic and realism become blurred. Beyond that, the character-driven story explores themes of friendship, self-discovery, and bridging the transition from childhood to young adulthood.

Sometimes it can be hard to decipher the difference between imagination and illness. The author has done an excellent job of illustrating Abigail’s unraveling—the whispering of nature, the ebb and flow of the hum, and the excitement turned obsession. With every place Abigail and Lainey traversed, I fell more in tune with Abigail’s frequency, at times questioning what was real and what was fictitious—this is the type of story that makes you see the world differently.

Whimsy and Bliss certainly highlights the plight of mental illness, particularly hypomania. Still, at its core, the novel’s overarching message is one of connection and trust—it’s the impenetrable sisterhood between two young women on the cusp of adulthood. In a world that is often stuck in the me-versus-you mentality, the solidarity between friends is refreshing, teaching us that we don’t have to suffer alone; we can lean on others for support.

For readers who love young adult books about friendship and adventure with a focus on mental health, this literary gem will appeal to you. Angela Gray’s exquisite prose is unmatched, and the multilayered characters are memorable. Abigail and Lainey’s map of thin places will forever hold a special place in my heart.

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