When I interviewed author John Bukowski for our Language of the Soul podcast, we spent as much time exploring that concept as we did talking about his thrillers (Project Suicide and Checkout Time). John’s writing is rooted in science and history, and yet he’s quick to admit that fiction—especially thrillers—offers a safe place to grapple with things that would otherwise be too unsettling to face head-on.
He reminded me of something I first learned reading Stephen King as a teenager: good stories don’t just entertain; they confront us with our shadow side. King famously said that writers must let out the “dark half” of themselves—the primal thoughts and impulses most of us repress. John echoed that idea, noting that his own protagonist is not an ex-Navy SEAL or perfect hero but a “drunken genius” weighed down by guilt and flawed decision-making. Those imperfections are what make him relatable.
It got me thinking about how fiction gives us a way to try on different perspectives without consequences. We can explore fear through a thriller, grief through a memoir, romance through a love story, or even pure escapism in fantasy. Like therapy, it’s a form of safe exposure: we confront intense emotions and experiences in controlled settings.
From a counseling perspective, this resonates deeply. In therapy, we often help people reframe their narratives—seeing themselves not as victims of their circumstances but as authors of their own future. Fiction works the same way. When John crafts a thriller where a flawed hero confronts impossible odds and still finds a way through, it’s not just entertainment; it’s a blueprint for resilience.
We also talked about how stories act as cultural snapshots. The narratives we tell today—whether it’s about AI, social media, or strong female protagonists—say as much about our current fears and values as classic literature says about the eras that produced them. John pointed out the risk of self-censorship, of holding back for fear of “cancel culture,” and how that can stifle authentic storytelling. I couldn’t help but think about how, in mental health, we see a similar dynamic: people afraid to show their vulnerability because they fear judgment or rejection.
The truth is, stories help us practice empathy and self-awareness in ways few other things can. They also help us step outside our own lives. As John put it, thrillers and horror are like therapy—they give us the rush of fear and the relief of resolution, all in a safe space.
For me, that conversation was a reminder of why I write and why I read: because stories connect us, even when we feel isolated; because they challenge us to imagine better versions of ourselves; because they allow us to explore the darker parts of our humanity without letting them take over.
If you need an escape that also makes you think, I encourage you to check out John’s work—especially if you like your fiction fast-paced and full of questions about what makes us human. His thrillers (Project Suicide and Checkout Time) are available now, and his upcoming novel Bad Pennies releases in 2025.
🎧 Listen to the full episode here: Language of the Soul Podcast