PHOTO: Christina Hagmann, author of young adult speculative fiction, pictured in her creative space with inspiring stacks of books.
Award-Winning Author Of Young Adult Fantasy, Horror, And Suspense Novels
Christina Hagmann shares insights into her writing process, genre blending, and themes of identity, while exploring the heart and emotional depth of speculative young adult fiction.
Christina Hagmann writes with a singular voice—a fusion of imagination, authenticity, and deep empathy that transcends genres. Her stories, whether tinged with horror, threaded with fantasy, or steeped in suspense, possess a hauntingly personal quality. In novels like Stratagem and The Dollhouse, her characters don’t merely confront external conflicts; they wrestle with the fragile and perplexing dimensions of identity, trust, and resilience. Hagmann’s ability to blend emotional nuance with pulse-quickening thrill is a testament to her skill and insight.
What sets Hagmann apart is the emotional truth at the core of her narratives. In works like The Vanishing Girl and The Brothers Finn, her protagonists navigate worlds that feel simultaneously extraordinary and intimately relatable. While the surveillance mechanisms of government conspiracies or the supernatural horrors of sentient dolls create gripping tension, it is the unflinching humanity of her characters that lingers. She writes of teens as they are—flawed, searching, and brimming with internal contradictions—creating bridges between her readers and the struggles of her fictional heroes.
As much as Hagmann inhabits otherworldly landscapes, her stories remain rooted in the vibrant complexity of human growth. Her innovative approach to genre bends conventions yet feels effortless, flowing organically from the emotional truths she explores. For aspiring writers of speculative fiction or anyone who cherishes tales of courage in the face of chaos, Hagmann’s commitment to heartfelt storytelling offers a masterclass in crafting narratives that resonate long after the final chapter. In her words, “If the heart of your story is real, the weird will only make it better”—an ethos that permeates her every creation.
Your recent novel As Far As The Eye Can See explores harrowing themes of survival and moral ambiguity—what inspired its desert setting and central conflict?
While many of my stories are rooted in Wisconsin, I wanted something that felt a little more haunting and something that could almost serve as its own character. The swamp felt like the right kind of creepy. It’s murky, hard to navigate, and full of hidden dangers, much like the emotional journey the characters are on. It also highlights the isolation the characters are feeling.
The Vanishing Girl delves into identity and government secrecy—how did you research or imagine the surveillance elements that drive the mystery?
Surveillance and government conspiracy are themes I keep coming back to—not just in The Vanishing Girl, but also in Stratagem and The Brothers Finn. The surveillance elements came after my initial idea for the story: the teen wakes up with no memory of who she is and has to trust people who claim to be her parents. It felt like the perfect backdrop for a teen struggling to figure out who she is while also wondering how much of her life is even hers to control.
In The Dollhouse, supernatural horror intersects with family secrets—how do you balance character emotional arcs with chilling atmosphere?
For me, horror works best when it’s grounded in emotion. The supernatural elements, like sentient dolls, are creepy on their own, but they hit harder when they represent something deeper, like generational trauma or unspoken guilt. I always start with the emotional core of the character, then layer the horror around that. The fear needs to feel personal, not just external.
Stratagem, your debut, features Meda navigating ethical dilemmas—did your experience as an English teacher influence her character’s growth?
When I first started writing Stratagem, I set out to create a strong female character—but the more I wrote Meda, the more I realised her strength wasn’t in confidence or control. It was in her resilience. She goes through so much without truly knowing who she is, and that uncertainty felt incredibly real. Working with teens, I’ve seen how many of them quietly carry burdens while trying to find their place. Meda’s journey—of being a shapeshifter who’s played so many roles she can’t tell what’s real anymore—was shaped by both my students and my own experiences watching people grow into themselves.
The Brothers Finn series blends teen sports with vampire hunting—what challenges arise when mixing genre conventions so distinct?
It was actually really fun to mix those worlds. I wanted to take one of the biggest highs in a teen athlete’s life—winning the state championship—and immediately follow it with devastating lows: finding their parents dead, getting arrested for the murder, and having to leave everything behind. The sports angle not only provided contrast, but it also explained their physicality and ability to survive what came next. It helped ground the supernatural in something real.
You’ve written across fantasy, horror, thriller, and superhero genres—how do you decide which genre best suits a story idea?
Usually, it comes down to the emotional core of the idea. If it’s about fear, I go horror. If it’s about secrets or survival, I lean thriller. If there’s a bigger-than-life element or a need to rewrite the rules of reality, fantasy or speculative fiction makes sense. I don’t chase genre—I let the story lead and follow where it naturally fits. Sometimes my readers disagree with what genre my book is listed under and I think it is because I often take elements of multiple genres.
Many of your protagonists face identity crises—what draws you to exploring self discovery under supernatural or moral pressure?
Identity is everything when you’re a teen. Everyone feels like they’re different, like they’re messing up somehow, even if they don’t say it out loud. That’s why I love writing characters who are literally torn between versions of themselves. Meda, as a shapeshifter, is a perfect example: she’s become so many people that she doesn’t know which parts are hers and which parts were for survival. I think teens do this all the time—code-switching between friend groups, family, school—and they don’t always realise how much it chips away at their sense of self. Putting that kind of emotional tension into a supernatural or high-stakes setting just amplifies the truth they’re already living.
What single piece of advice would you offer aspiring authors hoping to write compelling young adult speculative fiction?
Write what you feel, not what you think will sell. YA readers are sharp. They’ll see right through anything inauthentic. Start with an emotional truth you remember vividly, something that still stings or burns. Then build the speculative layer on top of that. If the heart of your story is real, the weird will only make it better.
