Crafting Griffin
Crafting new characters is such a trip, and while drafting this blog, I’ve started to question my own sanity just a bit. You see, I’m a plantser—a person who mostly pantses (aka writes as the story comes to them) with just a sprinkle of plotting to keep the chaos somewhat on track. I never really know what’s going to happen, or who’s going to show up on the page until they do. And when they do? It’s like a whip.
Izz? Complete curveball. No clue who she was or what she wanted until she strolled into the scene, mouth full of vulgarity and mischief. I literally gasped out loud and said, “You can’t say that!” My daughter looked at me like I’d lost my mind from across the room. Honestly? That’s one of my checks for a good arc or scene. If I’m surprised or scandalized, chances are readers will be too.
But Griffin… Griffin was a different beast from the very beginning.
He wasn’t one of those characters who just exploded onto the page with a backstory and fire. No, Griffin is the only character I’ve ever built completely off-page before even deciding where he belonged in the Legacy world. And his origin story? Easily one of my favorites.
Picture this: I’m doom scrolling one night (as one does) when I come across a martial artist whose knife-fighting style is like nothing I’ve ever seen. He uses his hair to launch knives across a room, paired with precision kicks and an overall ninja/assassin vibe. It was mesmerizing.
Now, if you know me, you know I almost never comment on big account posts. But I had to say something. His talent, his movement—it belonged in my books. So I dropped a comment:
Me: “I’m totally writing a character for my next book with this fighting style.”
Jefrick: “What would you name him?”
Me: (After a few days of freaking out that he responded and lots of thought because that’s a big decision) “Griffin.”
Jefrick: “I look forward to reading that.”
I squealed. Like, full-on book-nerd squeal–you can ask my bestie and my husband. I was probably unbearable. But he responded! And I meant what I said—Griffin was born that night. Based on Jefrick’s look and fighting style, I knew instantly that he was The Reaper. He had a quiet intensity about him, and when I dropped him into the Legacy world, he immediately gravitated toward Kat.
However, I didn’t expect the chemistry. Kat was prickly, and focused, and now we knew why. It was more than just the heartbreak of Shay—which in itself was traumatizing and brutal. But there was this betrayal of Griffin. I was shocked by just how much tension lived in every interaction between them. The first scene I wrote for him was the boardroom scene. Kat, who is rarely caught off guard, kept finding herself disarmed by Griffin. And Griffin? He was a man of few words, but every word he gave her carried weight.
When the book was done, I messaged Jefrick and asked if he wanted a copy. He said yes! I was already floating at that point, but then the stars really aligned—my daughter’s gymnastics Nationals happened to be in the same area he lived. Total fate moment. We met up, had dinner, trained a bit, and talked about story and movement. I was fangirling the entire time but trying to play it cool. It was one of those surreal, full-circle moments where the world reminds you that sometimes, creativity isn’t just about locking yourself in a room and writing—it’s about connection.
Griffin’s development was the most deliberate I’ve ever done, and I’m so glad I let the inspiration guide me. He’s the kind of character who doesn’t say much, but his silence carries so much weight. He’s grief and discipline, edge and elegance, all wrapped into one deadly, quiet package. And his journey? Let’s just say he’s not done surprising me—or you.
So if you’re reading this and wondering what kind of magic it takes to create a character like Griffin, sometimes it’s just a scroll, a spark, and a bold comment. The rest is all blood, sweat, rewrites… and maybe a few fangirl moments.