If I listed everything that may or may not upset a reader, it’d ruin the plot of my books. Trigger warnings might be helpful in genres geared toward children, but it’s ludicrous to think all genres should include them. If murder upsets you, good! The psychological thriller did its job. If you only want feel-good stories, maybe you shouldn’t read thrillers, horror, true crime, dark romance, or any other genre that veers into similar territories.
To expect a psychological thriller author to tell you in advance what may or may not cause you—a stranger—emotional distress, is absurd. It’d be a helluva lot easier for authors who write cozy-esque thrillers to say that, rather than force all thriller writers to predict what scenes may or may not upset a reader. Especially nowadays, when everyone seems overly sensitive.
In the real world, life is messy, violent, complicated, and too many nice guys finish last. Did the OBGYN stamp that warning on our wrists at birth? No. Why? Besides the obvious, it’s impossible to tell what a newborn might experience in their life. How, then, are we supposed to predict how a reader may or may not feel?
Also, the faceless, nameless “they” want us to include warnings for mere mentions of a triggering subject, even if it never occurs on the page. What??? Not only do we have to guess which subjects may or may not upset a current or future reader but now, we need to forewarn the mere mention of it, as well?
When do people start taking accountability for themselves?
We didn’t force anyone to buy our books. Thrillers often use an ominous cover and description. Is it our fault the sensitive reader ignored both cues?
I got fired up about this issue after a friend loaned his neighbor a signed copy of Merciless Mayhem. Eighteen months later, she finally returned it, but not before she cursed him out for not warning her of the content. There’s a skull on the cover! The water is blood red! What kind of novel did she think it was? Did she not read the description in eighteen months? Gimme a break. Some people are too quick to place blame anywhere but at themselves.
Another Example:
In my debut novel, MARRED, the protagonist is a rape survivor. I never showed the rape, and the story takes place three years later.
Does that mean a warning of “rape” should be included? Since it’s a series, should that same warning continue for all five books?
Thankfully, TWs weren’t “a thing” when it debuted, but my publisher and I still discussed it. Because I never showed the rape, neither of us considered it a problem, nor did any of my readers, judging by the reviews. I did, however, hear from more than one rape survivor who praised my book for showing what the act of rape does to a person ie., psychological damage and/or residual aftereffects, like obsessively showering or the need for order and/or control in their lives. They all said the book helped them to realize they’re reactions were common in rape survivors.
If MARRED had a TW of “rape” listed, none of those women would’ve read the book that helped them to move forward. Rubs against the argument to include TWs, doesn’t it?
If you still believe trigger warnings in books help trauma survivors, check out this scientific study’s conclusion with even more studies linked to conduct your own research:
Public arguments regarding trigger warnings have been politically charged, complex, and data-poor. Recent research on trigger warnings can importantly inform or perhaps even settle some of these debates. The research suggests that trigger warnings are unhelpful for trauma survivors, college students, trauma-naïve individuals, and mixed groups of participants (Bellet et al., 2018, 2020; Bridgland et al., 2019; Sanson et al., 2019).
The highlights of the 2018 empirical study:
Trigger warnings increase peoples’ perceived emotional vulnerability to trauma.
Trigger warnings increase peoples’ belief that trauma survivors are vulnerable.
Trigger warnings increase anxiety to written material perceived as harmful.The 2020 Helping or Harming study acknowledges in its conclusions:
Trauma survivors (N = 451) were randomly assigned to either receive or not to receive trigger warnings before reading passages from world literature. We found no evidence that trigger warnings were helpful for trauma survivors, for participants who self-reported a posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) diagnosis, or for participants who qualified for probable PTSD, even when survivors’ trauma matched the passages’ content.
Trigger warnings can get ridiculous. This extensive list includes but is not limited to:
- alcohol
- divorce
- cheating
- car accident
- death
- bones
- fire
- gun violence
- infertility
- murder
- attempted murder
- pregnancy
- profanity
- religion
- miscarriages
- snakes
- spiders
- needles
- terminal illness
- anxiety
- violence
- hospitalization
- childbirth
- Harry Potter references
- infertility
Keep in mind, we can’t even mention any of these without including a warning in advance.
Are. They. Serious? We’re expected to add a TW if a character drinks alcohol? The author isn’t forcing the reader to drink alcohol against their will.
Similar articles claim all authors have a “moral obligation to warn readers of all possible triggers.” No offense to younger generations, but many are offended by subjects that GenXers or Baby Boomers wouldn’t even recognize as problematic.
One trigger warning listed above is “divorce.” Does that mean if the book contains a divorced character, or the mention of someone divorcing, even in the past, we need to warn readers? What’s upsetting about a divorced character? Sure, divorce sucks to endure in real life, but how much emotional distress does a divorced character cause in readers? If the character never gets remarried—or does, but that still doesn’t erase their prior divorce—are all the books in the series doomed to wear that warning label? According to some readers, they say yes.
What part of fiction don’t they understand?
Why can’t a potential reader gain the same insight from the genre, description, and cover? Why is it our responsibility to guess what may or may not upset some readers?
Or—here’s a thought—maybe sensitive readers should stick with cozy beach reads with cute covers. Why choose a psychological thriller with an ominous cover and description, and then force the author to guess what may or may not “trigger” you?
It’s ridiculous! And so is the overused word “trigger.”
Thriller author Jay Darkmoore explains the difference between being triggered and feeling upset, offended, or sad:
The word triggered comes from psychology. It means to be triggered into a PTSD emotional flashback, to the point where something – an event, like combat and war – happened, and you are transported back to that situation and how you felt at the time. It means that your body reacts and your hormones spike. It means that you begin to shake, to run, to fight. You lose control of yourself because the stimulus has ‘triggered’ significant trauma. It hasn’t just upset or offended you. Being offended is a choice. Remember that. You CHOOSE to be offended and you CHOOSE to be angry.
You do not choose to be triggered. Stop saying being angry is the same as being triggered. They are worlds apart, and it’s very, very disrespectful to actual sufferers of PTSD and trauma to say you got triggered because you read about a bad thing happening that made you feel sad [or upset].
Sensitive readers have no business venturing into the horror or psychological thriller aisles. Psychological thrillers should cause emotional distress. It’s right there in the genre title. And horror, well, it’s horrific.
One author complained about Stephen King causing her emotional distress. Um, yeah, that’s his job.
C’mon, folks. Take some responsibility for yourself.
Real Life does not forewarn us… of anything.
Y’know what I do when I stumble across a subject that isn’t my cup o’ tea? I close the book. Yes, it’s that simple. Close. The. Book. Move on with your life. You’re not its intended audience. And that’s okay. Books are not meant to be one-size-fits-all. Reading tastes are subjective. Isn’t that great? I think so.
I, for one, will never include trigger warnings (unless a publisher demands it). If a reader can’t tell my books may delve into uncomfortable subject matters — a pre-requisite for psychological thrillers, environmental thrillers, and true crime — that’s not my problem. The covers, descriptions, and genre should be enough for readers to make an informed decision.
How do you feel about trigger warnings? Let’s discuss.
<– This is the cover she thought would be a sweet, feel-good story.
Key “warnings” in the description are in bold:
Shawnee and Mayhem continue to wreak havoc on the Killzme Corporation—the largest animal trafficking ring in the country—by killing one poacher at a time.
Meanwhile, the traffickers set their sights on capturing Orca for profit and pleasure.
With a ticking clock and no place left to hide, Shawnee and Mayhem alternate between undercover surveillance and clandestine battles to save their loved ones and the Innocent Ones from Killzme’s evil plans.
Skills are tested. Tenuous alliances formed. Not everyone will make it out alive.
Set in a world of cultural wonder, environmental threats, and looming danger, this heart-stopping eco-thriller will have you glued to the page from the first sentence to the last.




We all know how distinct odors can enhance a scene. What does buttery popcorn evoke in you? What about freshly baked apples? Or steamed lobster? Or a campfire?
Forensic science is always evolving to better aid in the apprehension of criminals. What if a killer leaves his victim with no fingertips, DNA, or teeth? One way to determine the age of a victim is by examining their eyes.



This little guy is very much alive. Look how convincing he is, though!
Texas indigo snakes—a subspecies of the eastern indigo snake—can grow up to 7 feet long and are found throughout Texas. They’re not venomous, nor constrictors. Instead, they rely on muscular jaws to overpower and swallow their meals head first. Texas indigo snakes even hunt venomous rattlesnakes (they’re immune to the venom).
documented 29 out of 50 different wild ducks played dead when exposed to captive red foxes. This immediate collapse gives the duck a fighting chance should the fox lower its guard. The ducks remained still while the fox carried them back to den to escape later.
Another species of bird that plays dead is the Japanese quail. These animals do so for similar reasons to ducks – to avoid predators, such as cats — and wait for an opportunity to escape. When sleeping, Japanese quail also appear to be dead and can sometimes cause alarm to their owners.
The lemon shark is an apex predator, yet they also play dead. If turned onto its back, the lemon shark will not only play possum, they’ll begin to exhibit labored breathing and the occasional tremor. This is especially interesting, considering the lemon shark lay on the ocean floor and allows other animals to pick the parasites off its body. They have the ability to remain completely still and pump water over their gills to breathe.
This little guy is alive, playing dead.
Native to Japan, the pygmy grasshopper displays a unique version of playing dead when threatened. Not only do they freeze but they spread out stiffened legs as far as possible in all directions. This death stance makes it nearly impossible for predatory frogs to attempt to swallow them. Thus, the frog moves on to easier prey.
This redback spider is alive but playing dead.
And the acting award goes to…
The Central American cichlid plays dead to lure unsuspecting prey. This aquatic predator’s intricate markings give the illusion of a decaying fish. Because scavengers are attracted to an easy meal, they move in. The cichlid springs to life and attacks.
Another animal that plays dead to catch prey is the pselaphinae beetle. Instead of waiting in ambush, these beetles employ tonic immobility so ants can carry them away. Once they get inside an ant’s nest, they spring to life and feed on the ant larvae (the majority of their diet).
Black widows are the most venomous spiders in North America, but they don’t always bite when threatened or provoked. Instead, black widows often play dead. When their lives are at risk, they curl into a ball while releasing silk to aid its movement.
Blue Jays play dead by slumping down, motionless. Sometimes, like their crow cousins, they’ll sprawl out with their wings spread, head flopped to the side. Some birdwatchers theorize this is a form of blue jay sunbathing. Or they’re playing a practical joke since they often surprise people by springing to life if disturbed. When threatened by predators such as cats and hawks, they will absolutely play dead.
Praying mantis are easily recognized by their long narrow bodies, a small head with large eyes, and oversized front legs held upright. To avoid being eaten by the female after mating, the male will play dead. They will only move again once the female has lost interest and left.
Not to worry. She’s alive, just not in the mood.
Thank you for standing in for the human, sweet puppy.

Becca Puglisi