For Writers Who Feel the Pull of the Moon
A creative sanctuary for weird fiction and genre-bending storytellers—especially those building creative lives in the margins
We're Building Something Different
The story of Full Moon Fiction and why it exists
I spent my entire life training to show horses.
From the time I could walk, I was dreaming about horses. By the time I was a teenager, I was competing. By the time I was 19, I was on my way to nationals. I had a plan. I had a future. I knew exactly who I was supposed to be.
And then, in one fell swoop, everything changed.
When Your Life Ends at Twenty
Seemingly overnight, severe neurological disorders took over my body—muscle spasms, lack of coordination, exhaustion so deep I couldn't stand. My hands, which had held reins with precision for years, couldn't be trusted anymore. I lost 80% of my vision in one eye and 40% in the other.
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Horses were gone. Not "take a break and come back later" gone. Gone gone.
Every plan, every dream, and every version of my future-self crumbled. My life was in shreds, scattered like something I couldn't pick up or put back together.
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All I had left were words.
I threw myself into writing the way drowning people reach for anything that floats.
Rebuilding in the Dark
I didn't choose writing because I had some romantic notion about being an author. I chose it because I was desperate to find something I loved that my body couldn't take away from me.
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Writing became my lifeline.
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What no one tells you about rebuilding your life from scratch is that it's expensive and it's isolating.
I grew up poor, raised by a single mother in rural America. We didn't have many resources. We didn't have safety nets. And when chronic illness took riding from me, it also took my job. I had no income, no health insurance, and no idea how to become a writer when I could barely afford to eat.
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Everywhere I looked, money was needed.
Want to take a writing course? $200. Want to attend a conference? $500 plus travel. Want to hire an editor, a cover designer, a formatter? Thousands. Even the affordable options assumed you had time, energy, and a few hundred dollars to spare.
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Then I found NaNoWriMo.
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Fifty thousand words in thirty days. Free, communal, energizing for countless writers. But for someone whose body and schedule was unpredictable, it felt like another door I couldn't walk through.
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I felt locked out of the very community I so desperately needed.
The system wasn't built for people like me. It was failing. I was failing.
Finding My People (Finally)
Eventually, I managed to dig myself into the writing community known as Writeblr.
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I found people who understood that some weeks you don't write at all. I found people who got excited about weird fiction and stories that don't fit neatly into marketable boxes. I found people who weren't interested in gatekeeping or pretending writing was only for the healthy, the wealthy, or the traditionally successful.
And slowly, painfully, I reshaped not only my career but my entire life around writing.
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It's now what I do for a living. I write books and I tell stories. But getting to this point was beyond hard.
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And it was lonely.
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Sometimes, it's still lonely.
The Lonely Parts They Don't Talk About
I write primarily horror. It's not exactly the most popular genre out there. I can only write between my full-time job and between severe health flare-ups—which means not often. Some months I write every day. Some months I write nothing at all because my body won't let me.
The writing world doesn't always know what to do with people like me.
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People who can't commit to a daily word count, who write slowly, or in bursts, or not at all for weeks at a time. People who love the dark, strange, uncomfortable stories that make readers squirm. People who are navigating creativity while also navigating chronic pain, fatigue, and a body that feels like it's actively working against them.
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This year, I turned thirty.
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A decade ago, I lost horses. A decade ago, I thought my life was over. And now, ten years later, I'm still here. Still writing. Still building.
Full Moon Fiction exists because I needed it at 20, and I'm building it now for everyone who needs it today.
Why Now? Why at Thirty?
​I've spent the last ten years learning how to create when the world tells you that you can't. I've learned how to work with my body instead of against it. I've learned that rest is part of the creative process, that slow progress is still progress, and that there's no "right way" to be a writer.
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And I've learned that the writing community I needed at twenty still doesn't fully exist.
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There are pieces of it scattered across the internet. Supportive writing groups here, affordable resources there. But there's no single space that says: "This is for writers with chronic illness. This is for writers who grew up poor. This is for writers who love weird fiction and stories that don't sell as well as romance or thrillers. This is for all of you, and you don't have to apologize for any of it."
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So I'm building it.
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Full Moon Fiction isn't just a business. It's not just a Patreon or a website or a series of events. It's a statement: You belong here. Exactly as you are. With all your limitations and all your strange ideas and all your bad pain days.
The Gap I'm Filling
The writing world has a lot of resources but most of them assume you have:
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Money to spend on courses, conferences, and coaching
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Time to write daily, attend weekly workshops, and commit to intensive programs
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Energy to maintain a consistent creative practice without accommodation for disability or chronic illness
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A genre that fits neatly into commercial categories
Full Moon Fiction is for everyone else.
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The ones who write horror and weird fiction because those are the stories that feel true, even if they're harder to sell. The ones who can't afford $500 courses but still deserve to learn and grow. The ones whose bodies are unpredictable and need creative systems that bend instead of break. The ones who've been told—explicitly or implicitly—that they're not "serious" writers because they don't fit the mold.
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I'm building this for the poor, the ill, and the weird.
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I'm building this for writers who feel the pull of the moon—who understand that creativity isn't linear, that some seasons are full and bright and others are dark and quiet, and that both are necessary.
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I'm building this because I wish it had existed when I was twenty and drowning.
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And I'm building it now, at thirty, because I finally have the skills, the stability, and the sheer stubborn determination to make it real.
What Full Moon Fiction Means to Me
Full Moon Fiction is my legacy.
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It's the thing I want to be remembered for. Not just the books I write under K.E. Koontz, but the space I created for other writers to grow, to rest, to belong. I want FMF to outlast me. I want it to be the place where a twenty-year-old writer with chronic illness finds community and doesn't feel so alone. I want it to be the reason someone keeps writing when everything else tells them to stop.
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I want it to matter.
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And if you're reading this—if any part of my story resonates with you—then you're part of why it matters.
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You're why I'm doing this.
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Welcome Home
What We Believe
These are the values that guide everything we build at Full Moon Fiction.
We believe in creative cycles, not constant productivity.
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Your creativity waxes and wanes like the moon. We build systems that work with your energy, not against it. Some months you write every day. Some months you write nothing. Both are valid phases of your creative cycle.
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We believe in accessibility.
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Writing resources shouldn't require wealth. That's why we offer free tiers, sliding scale options when possible, and always maintain free resources alongside paid offerings. If you can't afford to pay right now, you still belong here.
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We believe in community over competition.
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There's room for all of our strange stories. We rise together. Your success doesn't diminish mine. My success doesn't diminish yours. We celebrate each other's wins and support each other through the struggles.
We believe weird fiction deserves serious craft.
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Horror, weird fiction, dark fantasy—these genres are literature. They deserve thoughtful craft development, not dismissal. The stories that make people uncomfortable are often the ones that matter most.
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We believe rest is part of the creative process.
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Some days you write. Some days you think. Some days you rest. All of it counts. You're not failing when you're resting—you're gathering the energy for the next phase. That's important, no matter what the sprints say.
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We believe your story matters—exactly as it is.
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You don't have to sand down the weird edges or make your work more palatable to "find your audience." The readers who need your strange, dark, uncomfortable stories are out there. We'll help you reach them without compromising your voice.
Who's Behind This
K. E. Koontz crafts slow-burn horror full of teeth, tenderness, and the things we bury. When not digging through the strange and the haunted, she can be found caffeinating and plotting her next nightmare.
What's Next?
2026:
Virtual community, Patreon, monthly events, Full Moon Challenge
2027:
Physical event presence (booths, local writing nights)
2028: