WHY I WROTE A BOOK ABOUT CONTROL

When people ask me what The Lies We Fear is about, I usually give them the polished version: “It’s a dark fantasy about power, betrayal, and a girl caught between loyalty and truth.” And that’s true. But it’s only the surface.

The more profound truth is this: I wrote this book because I’ve always wrestled with the idea of control. Who has it? Who loses it? And what happens when you realize someone else’s hands have shaped your whole life?

It Started Quietly

Like most of my stories, this one didn’t begin with a plot twist or a world map. It started with a feeling—something unsettled. I was sixteen when I began to realize just how often we shrink ourselves to fit expectations, especially when those expectations come from people we love or fear.

For a long time, I didn’t have the words to explain what that felt like. So I gave those feelings to someone else:

A girl named Angelette.

A daughter of a dictator.

A voice buried under legacy, obedience, and fear.

CONTROL ISN’T JUST POWER

When people hear the word “control,” they often think of empires, crowns, or political strategy. But the kind of control I’m interested in is quieter—and more dangerous.

It’s the control that hides in love.
The kind that dresses itself as protection.
The kind that tells you who you are before you ever get the chance to ask.

In writing this book, I wanted to explore the invisible cages people carry. The rules we never agreed to but followed anyway. The guilt that comes from questioning authority—even when we know it’s wrong.

Some of that comes from personal experience.

I’ve had moments where I kept my thoughts to myself—not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t want to upset anyone. I’ve bitten my tongue in conversations, agreed just to avoid conflict, and stayed quiet even when I knew something didn’t sit right. It felt safer to be silent than risk disappointing someone I cared about.
And I started to wonder: What happens to a person when they live like that for too long?
What happens when someone who’s been quiet their whole life finally says no?

WRITING IT CHANGED ME

Writing The Lies We Fear was cathartic—but it was also hard. Some scenes felt too close to home. Dialogues that mirrored conversations I’d overheard in real life. Characters who are manipulated not through brute force, but through affection laced with expectation.

It forced me to look at the ways I internalize control. How often I apologize for taking up space. How long it took me to believe that my thoughts—my stories—deserved to be heard.

WHAT I HOPE READERS SEE

The Lies We Fear isn’t a book about overthrowing a government (though that’s also part of it).
It’s a book about surviving manipulation, about waking up inside your own life and realizing:

“I’ve been living someone else’s version of me.”

And then having the courage to change that.

If you’ve ever felt silenced, small, or unsure of who you are without someone else’s approval—this book is for you.

Not to fix it.

Not to offer easy answers.

But to say: You’re not alone. And your voice matters.

LET’S TALK

I’d love to know—have you ever written something that helped you reclaim your voice?
Or read a story that made you feel seen?
Share it in the comments or drop me a message. I’d genuinely love to hear it.

Until next time,
Heather Ogden