We recently connected with Halo Scot and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Halo, thanks for joining us today. Let’s jump to the end – what do you want to be remembered for?

Legacy is such a strong word, and I am a very small grain of sand on a very large beach. The world will forget me in the blink of an eye. The universe in general has no idea I exist. Everything I do will mean nothing in the end. But we CAN create pockets of energy, of experiences, microcosms of beauty in the vast unknown, and even if they don’t matter cosmically, they matter personally. We all mean something to someone, and even if our legacy is invisible, it is enough. We are enough.

As a kid, I used to want to change the world. To leave a mark. Make a difference. Make myself known. Then I realized what that means—the cost of power, the price of difference, the sacrifice of friends and family—and had one of my many existential crises. I’ve always been close to my parents, so I asked them for advice.

My mom said: “If you have your health, you can do anything.” Meaning both physical and mental health. I’ve ingrained this advice, making mentality a priority. I have a tendency to spiral, to sulk in underground ditches and build dungeons of self-hatred. From my mom’s influence, however, I have learned to enjoy the climb, the uncomfortable light, and leave mental anchors of memories, celebrations, and every little triumph, even as tiny as waking up when you just want to wallow, that always lead me back up.

My dad said: “Don’t focus on changing THE world. Focus on changing YOUR world.” Meaning focus on family, on friends, on loved ones. Kindness has a ripple effect, and each microscopic change echoes outward. The edgelord in me would say, “Be a virus.” My dad also preached, “Buy the good cheese,” which is just as solid life advice.

When we think about legacy, about immortalizing our footprints, we often focus on something quantifiable. In the case of authors, it could be book sales, film adaptations, translations, etc. But no number is big enough to echo long enough until infinity. We will all be forgotten eventually. So I’ve shifted my mindset to focus on little victories, on smiles and thank-yous, on one review from someone who needed my story at one fleeting moment of time.

I hope my legacy is ripples of kindness. I don’t need to be remembered in name or sales or photographs, but I would love to be remembered in spirit. If my little corner of the world shines a little brighter, sings a little louder, and acts a little gentler, then I will be happy leaving that invisible legacy behind. During life, I wouldn’t mind building an empire of stories, but when I’m dead, leave my ashes to time.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I am an author / word dragon who writes about the fantastical, the horrific, the OMG WTF, and the darkly romantic. If you’re looking for inclusive, diverse books that feature angst, anguish, soul-cleaving tragedy, mind-splitting terror, and the ultimate triumvirate of blood, sex, and swears, welcome to the breach.

I got into writing as a necessity. Writing is therapy for me. There’s a catharsis in it, a relief and a becoming. I write about my shadows in the hope that others embrace their shadows, too. Mental health features heavily in my stories, as well as identity. Books, TV shows, and movies were where I saw myself reflected first. I realized I was not the only queer kid with OCD and depression. That I was not the only kid who thought Ariel from THE LITTLE MERMAID was hot and failed to understand the point of Prince Eric. That I was not the only kid fantasizing about a sapphic fanfic between two rogue Jedi who find each other on an Outer Rim space station and (*deep breath*) need to fight together while also fighting their attraction in order to survive and bring balance to the Force where both dark and light sides merge in an epic battle stuffed with droids and starships and heated glares. (Not that I still think about this while I run to Samuel Kim’s epic, spine-tingling rendition of “The Force Theme”…)

I try to make my books feel like home—okay, an insurance nightmare of a home where there might be murder and mayhem and apocalyptic battles over the fate of a dying planet (I am a sucker for dystopia), but where you can also be yourself with intense, reluctantly lovable characters who will kill for you (or kill you) in a heartbeat. There is a sanctuary in stories, a refuge you can escape to when the weight of the world is just too much. I’ve always used stories to heal, to rebuild, and I hope that at least one of my stories can help at least one person do the same. Especially if that person likes murder-happy stress-bakers.

My books are not for everyone. They are raw, vulnerable, unfiltered, and unapologetic in the way they discuss pain, grief, struggle, and recovery. Healing hurts. Life is crazy. I don’t shy away from mistakes and hardship. My characters mess up. They hurt other people. They swear. They say “let’s fight” before “let’s be friends.” No one makes good choices, and there is a questionable level of scowls and grunts.

If my books were food, they’d be popcorn jellybeans. If you’ve had them before, if you can relate to the confusing flavor, then pull up a chair and have a seat. If you’re skeptical of the sweet-savory mix, of the unabashed insanity someone had to combine a classic with a cacophony, then you’re still welcome to join us, of course, but maybe bring an umbrella for the blood.

Pride is a strange thing for me. After spending most of my life perfecting the art of self-deprecation, I am only now, in my dirty thirties, choosing confidence over self-loathing. It still feels prickly to think “I did well, or well enough for me” instead of “I am the mutant spawn of a salamander-wildebeest who can’t get instant coffee right, never mind life.” But I can at least say I am proud of staying authentic—for better or worse. I do not tone down my dark and weird. If one of my characters falls in love with a corpse, I do not stop them. If another of my characters wants to stress-knit with fettuccini, I give them a pasta pot and let them go to town.

On a more personal note, I am immensely proud of my kids. They are my heroes, the best things I’ve ever created, daring every day to be themselves and tell me my lightsaber skills leave much to be desired. (They’re entirely right.)

So if you want to join my mad journey through the grisly dark and defiantly strange, climb aboard HaloScot.com. We’ve got snacks.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

Shame is a lesson I had to unlearn—and am still unlearning.

I was a weird kid. Odd. Lonely. An outcast. I had few friends and lost most to misunderstandings. (This sounds like the beginning of a My Chemical Romance song, no shade, but I promise it’s not as emo as it starts.) I used self-deprecation as armor—a “you can’t hurt me if I hurt myself first” shield. I apologized for existing, squeezed myself into ill-fitting costumes, and guilted myself for not being a good enough actor when I forced myself into the wrong movie. Everything was my fault, and I didn’t belong, because I was too insecure to carve my own path through the thorns. It’s impossible to succeed when you’re playing the wrong person.

There came a point of no return in adulthood, a “you can change or you can drown” ultimatum. I’m a parent, and kids are a mirror. I didn’t want mine to reflect my shame. I didn’t want to normalize self-hatred. So I focused all my energy on building them up, on boosting their self-esteem, on ingraining self-worth at the DNA level, something they just had and didn’t need to fight for because it was there, always, a tattoo on their genes.

We were all sitting on the floor one day, making clay dragons or paper airplanes or duct-tape swords (as one does), when my son asked me to draw him something. I told him I’d try my best but that I wasn’t a great artist. He said, “If you believe in us, why don’t you believe in yourself?” My daughter then added, “Yeah, believe in yourself, Mom. You need to work on that.”

My first response was shame, of course. I was ashamed they could see me clearer than I had ever seen myself, ashamed that despite how hard I had worked to hide that dark side from them, they still sensed it. But like all parents know, every moment is a teaching opportunity, so I said, “You are totally right. I do need to work on that. Let’s do it together.”

Besides my kids, my grandmother has also been instrumental in unraveling my shame. She has dementia, an awful disease. I’ve watched, unable to do anything, as she has forgotten people, places, routines, skills, and memories. Everything she has built and worked for is slowly slipping away.

Yet instead of feeling rage and frustration, which would be totally valid and understandable, she feels only thankful. She can’t remember my name anymore, and often forgets who I am, but she always greets me with a beaming smile. Despite everything that has happened to her, despite being unable to speak in full sentences for the most part, she has clung onto three sayings.

“I’m so grateful.”

“I’m so lucky.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

She isn’t angry or ashamed that she’s fading. She’s happy she’s here. Happy to exist, to have existed, to have been allowed to walk this world. She sees the wonder in life, no matter the pain. Sees the wonder in me, no matter my shame. There’s a lightness to her now, as if letting go has given her wings. In one of my upcoming WIPs, arriving in the next 1–100 years, I wrote this line: “We can only take forward what we can carry. Let go of everything else.” My grandmother embodies this, and I strive to also let go in such a beautiful way.

About caring for my grandmother, my mom said, “You are not the only one on this journey. Many have walked it before you; let them help guide and support you. Many walk it now; just let them know you see them and understand. Many will walk it in the future; those are the people you can help later.”

This applies to every pain, every struggle.

Ask for help, so you may help others.

Walk beside each other, so if you fall, you can rise together.

Are there any books, videos, essays or other resources that have significantly impacted your management and entrepreneurial thinking and philosophy?

It will come as absolutely no surprise to anyone who knows me that I am a Jedi—I mean, a Star Wars fan.

I remember when “it got me.” I was nine, at a cousin’s birthday party among my flock of family members, and THE PHANTOM MENACE was playing on the TV. The podrace was on, and something leaped out of that scene and gripped me, chaining me to the spot. Up until that point, I didn’t know story could feel like that, so all-encompassing. Didn’t know universes could rise and fall within a framework of characters who felt more like friends than most of my own. It felt so real. So visceral. A magic of blood and soul.

Something clicked in my head, and I thought, I want to create something like THAT.

Fast-forward to years later, when I was publishing the Rift Cycle. I hadn’t realized how implanted Star Wars was in my psyche till a friend mentioned the connection. The themes of power, of hope, of gray morality and the fall of the chosen one all feature heavily in my work. THE PHANTOM MENACE is my comfort movie to this day. The bold weirdness of cantinas, tentacle faces, sentient blobs, and swashbuckling rogues have encouraged me to deviate, to take the path less traveled.

Also, Star Wars was not an overnight sensation. It grew into a cultural cataclysm, but it took time, and that time is inspiring. Even the biggest franchises sometimes stumble, yet they still get back up and barge forward: no mercy, no quarter.

So may you rise after you fall, may you soar after you stumble, and may the Force be with you, always. (I had to. It was that or “I know.”)

Contact Info:

• Website: https://haloscot.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/halo_scot/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorhaloscot/
• Linkedin: https://twitter.com/halo_scot
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@halo_scot

Image Credits

Halo Scot