Real And Raw Reflections On "The Age Of Scorpius"

Disclaimer: this post is not directed towards Audra Winter specifically, nor anyone on or affiliated with her team.

via Goodreads

The bookish corner of the internet can be a lovely place. Even though it's got its unfavorable areas, it's an asset for writers seeking community, writing advice, or avenues for networking and marketing. The rise of BookTok has made it an especially powerful tool for authors and authors in the making.

But with that power can come contention when things don't turn out as an author (and their readers) expect.

There has been widespread discussion over the past few weeks regarding The Age of Scorpius and its author, Audra Winter. Following a viral marketing and preorder campaign comparable to that of Alex Aster's Lightlark, Winter's debut fantasy novel was released and met with overwhelmingly negative reviews. Many readers who had preordered The Age of Scorpius expressed disappointment, saying it read more like a juvenile first draft than a polished, professional manuscript.

The discourse was only spurred by Winter's responses, including plans to release a second edition with a revised story and additional illustrations and reactionary social media posts that came across as defensive and dismissive (for more in-depth context, allow me to recommend Book Lover Laura's videos covering the situation).

I've been going back and forth about whether or not I was going to post anything about The Age of Scorpius, but I realized something about all of this that I don't want to (and honestly can't) ignore: I see a lot of myself in Audra Winter. Her passion for The Age of Scorpius reminds me so much of my younger self and the first novel I ever wrote. The one I've referenced occasionally on the blog but will probably never see the light of publication day for many of the reasons that The Age of Scorpius hasn't been well-received.

The conversations surrounding this book have had me reflecting on my own writing journey. I cannot speak to the publication aspect or Winter's marketing as I myself am not a published author outside of this blog, but I can speak to the experience of a young writer with an unbridled passion for a story you've been working on for half of your life.

Who Am I, Though?

Before I go into Audra Winter and her writing, I figure it makes sense to briefly go over me and mine as it pertains to this post.

Writing was something I dabbled with but didn't pursue in any serious capacity (i.e., wanting a career in it) until I was about fourteen. To be honest, my first-first effort at writing a "book" came about in eighth grade and was a result of hating on Twilight—which I wouldn't actually read until I was in my 20s—and Shiver, which was my selection from the options on my school's required summer reading that year; I'm pretty sure Shiver was there just to appeal to the Twilight fans so I wasn't its ideal reader anyhow. The inspiration here boils down to the preteen snark of "I could write something better than that." IYKYK.

This "book" of mine—which I'm surrounding with neon air quotes because it didn't amount to more than two chapters held together by dried-up glitter glue and the faintest whisper of a plot—was basically Twilight but with a ghost instead of a vampire and the protagonist just moved into the White House because her dad is the newly-elected president. Beyond that, the only other things I can recall about it are that there was going to be a love triangle between the MC, the ghost, and the vice president's son who was initially dating the MC's older sister, and that all of them except the ghost were named after zodiac signs. The VP's son was called Taurus, that much I do know. 12-year-old me thought it was groundbreaking.

I had forgotten about that entirely until I started seeing posts about The Age of Scorpius and its fallout.

The first book I truly planned on publishing someday was Guises to Keep, which readers of this blog might be familiar with. If you're not, it's best summed up as "Regency Era Downton Abbey." It was set at a country manor house and revolved around the servants and the upper-class family who owned the estate. Several interconnected love triangles featuring men that are awfully toxic in retrospect, inheritance schemes, the engagement of convenience trope, a tragic backstory for every. single. character. that was a mile long, hefty conversations about things I was frankly too young to fully comprehend the gravity of—and a whole lot of confidence on my part.

I started Guises to Keep in my freshman year of high school and finished its first draft during my freshman year of college. From there, it was an endless loop of self-edits and rewrites.

Until a couple of years ago, when I realized it just wasn't working. It's been shelved since then, and I've since worked on other stories.

Who Is Audra Winter? What Is The Age Of Scorpius?

Audra Winter, 22, is a young adult fantasy author.

Her debut novel, The Age of Scorpius, is the first in its series, The World of Gardian:

The Age of Scorpius and its premise became a TikTok sensation in 2021 with over 3.5 million likes and 8 million views. This highly-anticipated YA fantasy debut by Audra Winter is filled with magical mysteries, found family, forbidden powers, and strong, rebellious women. The Age of Scorpius is a unique blend of the sword & sorcery, dystopian, mystery, and romantacy genres, featuring a sapphic protagonist and diverse cast of characters.

Welcome to Gardian, a world where one's zodiac sign determines their magic, fate, and social status.

Eighteen-year-old Rieka Spring has been determined all her life to piece together Gardian's fragmented historical record and reverse her sign's emotionless code of honor. When she finally locates an ancient archive containing classified knowledge of Gardian's history, Rieka discovers a scroll that reveals the existence of a mythological weapon and uncovers the truth behind the Scorpio Code-it's nothing more than a manipulation tactic to keep Scorpio in power.

Violating the Code's "holy orders" is punishable by death, and Rieka's broken the first never show emotion. Unless she wants to be murdered for displaying her anger against the law's will, she must find and prove that a mythological weapon is more than a story before she's killed by the hauntingly familiar assassin sent to stop her.

via Goodreads

The Age of Scorpius was released in June 2025 and currently has a Goodreads rating of 1.59/5 stars.

My Rambling Thoughts On Everything

Speaking as a 29-year-old writer who hasn't published any of her own writing beyond blog posts yet, I'll be among the first to commend Winter on putting herself and her writing out there, especially as young as she is.

I'll also commend her dedication to The World of Gardian. But that dedication to her story, I think, has also been a contributing factor to the fallout and discourse surrounding The Age of Scorpius.

Hell, I know it.

Because I've been there.

I get it.

In a lot of ways, Guises to Keep was my The Age of Scorpius. I started it when I was young and barely scratching the surface of learning how to write. I threw every fibre of my being into it. Every spare moment I had went to Guises to Keep; I more than once got in trouble for working on it during class instead of the actual assignment. At family gatherings, I'd sneak off to write instead of socializing. I'd be working on it when the mic was off during my radio show in college, and during any meal I was eating alone in the cafeteria. I was able to do an independent study for a semester but, rather than working on something new and sharpening those skills one-on-one with a creative writing professor, I was deadset on working on Guises to Keep; it was a great opportunity, and I learned so much about editing a manuscript, but I also regret making Guises to Keep my focus because I feel like I wasted that potential.

I was confident that this book would be the book. An instant bestseller. So many aspects of my life became tied to this unrefined story on loose-leaf paper in a three-ring binder held together by duct tape. In a way, so did my identity. I didn't know who I was outside of writing.

And, more specifically, outside of Guises to Keep.

When I moved to where I currently live, I got dibs on turning the laundry room into a writing nook. I decided on a woodsy theme not because I liked that aesthetic in particular but because the third act of Guises to Keep takes place mostly in a forest. I wanted to immerse myself in it.

There are logistical issues that have resulted in my no longer using that space outside of doing laundry. It's not insulated enough for long sessions (especially during a New England winter) and is attached to the garage, which can result in fumes. The AC unit leaked, causing damage to the desk and bookshelf I'd set up.

But it's also a space I don't feel good in anymore. I don't do my best writing there. It's walking into a time capsule of my writing in 2018. I've grown so much since then, and I've grown apart from the story that was the heart of the decor. And, yeah, I could renovate the space. But at this point, I'm focused on what's ahead. Making plans for the next writing space in a new residence we haven't found yet, plans that reflect me more than a single WIP. There might be nods to my books in that space, but it won't be built around them.

It also didn't help that Guises to Keep had an irrevocable tie to my grief. If you aren't aware, my father died of a freak heart attack. I was eighteen, and it was about two weeks before my first-ever college finals.

I wrote the scene where the female protagonist finds out about her father's death the night my own father died—only, I didn't know it until the next day when my mom and grandfather made the three-hour drive to tell me in person.

I don't think there was a time I blamed myself for my father's death, at least not in any sense that I'd accidentally pulled a Death Note by happening to write that scene that night. It did, however, add fuel to the fire that was my dedication to Guises to Keep. I had to finish it. Because after all of that, I couldn't give up on it.

I kind of trauma-bonded with that one character. Despite the toxic love interests, it became my safe space. I buried myself in my writing.

I can't speak to Audra Winter's experiences, but she's mentioned feeling that The Age of Scorpius was at many times the only thing keeping her going in difficult times. She describes it as, "the only thing that has stayed consistent in [her] life. It is the only thing that [she] has been able to lean on every single night and say, 'Hey, at the end of the day, I have this.'"

Believe me when I tell you I know that feeling.

I also know the feeling of having dedicated so much of your time and self to something that it has to come to fruition.

Winter references Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000-hour rule. It's the idea that if you dedicate 10,000 hours to a single thing, you become a master of it. Winter uses this as an assessment of her writing prowess.

Time spent, sadly, does not equal skill or quality. There are some flaws in Gladwell's theory. 10,000 hours is an arbitrary number, for one, and mastering a craft depends on how those hours are being spent.

I cannot confirm any part of Winter's process beyond what she's posted on social media. I don't have a record of how she spent every one of those hours.

For myself, though, I know it was a ton of self-edits and rewrites. Eventually, this started to feel more like the sunk cost fallacy. The notion that I've put so much time into this thing, I have to see it through. In gambling, for example, you keep betting and betting because even though you've lost x-amount of money, you're bound to hit the jackpot because you've made the investment of time and money, and that it's only a spin or two away.

(As someone who works in a casino, trust me: chances are that you won't hit that jackpot on a slot machine unless you're betting the absolute max—and even then it is incredibly unlikely...)

After having worked on Guises to Keep consistently for so many years, it had to pay off eventually. It had to be good by now.

It got better with every draft, but it wasn't publishable by any means. No matter how confident I was in it, or myself as a writer.

That's not to say that time spent was a waste! I learned so much about writing through it, and about myself, too. And one of the most important lessons was being able to recognize that stepping away and opening myself up to new things was crucial for me to go from being a good writer to being a good writer.

Bound to the Heart was the first book I wrote after eight years working on Guises to Keep. It started out as my research project for a travel course to London during my senior year, and that semester was the first time I extensively worked on a book that wasn't Guises to Keep. It was a much-needed reset in ways that I hadn't expected.

In one of Winter's videos, she says she's not giving up on The World of Gardian or her writing. And I don't think she should.

I do, however, think it might be helpful for her to write something different. Even if it's only for herself. Bound to the Heart made me a stronger writer, and coming back to Guises to Keep after working on it made that first WIP's flaws more glaring, but I was also better equipped to fix them.

Part of that growth is being receptive to change and outside influence.

When articles on publishing suggested a 180,000-word manuscript, especially a debut, would be pretty much instantly rejected, I laughed it off. What did they know about my book? I was also resistant to reading books on craft because I didn't think there was much to learn. I thought I knew everything there was to know. I was confident.

No. I was cocky.

My earliest blog posts have an air of arrogance to them. That "I know everything there is to know about writing already" vibe that makes me cringe more than rereading my oldest drafts.

I was 22. The age that Audra Winter is now.

I had her confidence. That naivety that a lot of young writers have.

In Winter's case, it's the brand of The World of Gardian. It's all of the cool features you might expect to see in an anniversary edition of the book, the new illustrations and foiled edges, that feel unnecessary in its current state. Window dressing can't repair a crumbling foundation. It may not be the same as my having a Pinterest board dedicated to what I'd wear to the red carpet premiere of Guises to Keep's film adaptation and the utmost certainty that Toby Regbo would not only be playing James but be my date to my high school reunion to help rub my success in my classmates' faces.

It's the naive confidence that we know what we're doing. So much of writing, however, is realizing that you don't know what you're doing—and trying to figure out how to learn it as you go.

That first time my writing was critiqued was sobering. It stung. But it was crucial.

There's a story I've told a couple of times in this space, and I think it's worth bringing up here.

When I was in college, a classmate invited me to join a writing group she was starting. Let's call her Amanda.

Amanda was actually a self-published author, and while I hadn't read any of her work, I was honored to be thought of for her writing group. It ended up being three people in total (myself, Amanda, and another classmate I'll call Anna), and the plan was to swap pages of our WIPs for critique.

Things took an unfortunate turn during the first workshop. When I received feedback on Guises to Keep, Anna's feedback was insightful and balanced my strengths and weaknesses as a writer. Amanda's, however, was more focused on criticism that wasn't exactly constructive. There were some bad-faith comments, like not liking the stablehand because he was "a rich white man" (he was poor AF btw, but I digress), and others that came across like she hadn't read either my writing or Anna's with much care. Meanwhile, she got defensive whenever Anna or I would mention something in her writing that we thought needed more attention and dismissed feedback that wasn't praise.

Within a week, Amanda dropped a scathing text in the group chat and quit the writing group outright. We had a few more classes together after that, and while we didn't interact as much, she still held that confidence in her writing as far as I could tell; I also heard from a few other folks that they didn't get on well with her because of similar experiences.

In some ways, I think that's become similar to how Winter is being perceived on social media. That she ignored the advice of her editors and hired a team of yes-ma'ams, writing her book in an echo chamber. And, when reasonable criticisms are raised, she shuts them down because they're not what she wants to hear.

I don't know Winter and therefore can't say that's how she's intending to handle the situation. I don't think that's it, though. Having been there and having witnessed it, I think she's scared. Not necessarily scared of bad reviews. I mean the kind of heartbroken scared anyone would be when every belief they held about themselves and their deepest passion is rattled. The fear of not knowing what comes after such an earth-shattering revelation.

The rose-tinted blinders have been ripped off, and you're left trying to pick yourself up and figure your shit out.

And she's having to do it with 154,000 TikTok followers and a sizable portion of the internet watching her every move. There are things that could have been phrased differently, on all sides. I'm positive there are things I've said in this blog post that a reader might find harsh. From what I've seen though, Winter's unwavering dedication to and defense of The World of Gardian, both as a book and as a business, has made it harder to shrug off. What could have been a quietly handled mistake has become a spectacle.

I'm all for transparency as a writer. Readers love getting inside looks at your process and sneak peeks at what you're working on. That's part of how Winter built the following she has. However, I think the best thing for her to do right now is to step back from the socials and The Age of Scorpius and take some time to regroup. To reconnect with herself.

All in all, there are lessons to be gleaned from The Age of Scorpius. The importance of separating your sense of self and identity from your writing. Being open to outside feedback and handling criticism with appropriate grace. Solidifying the smaller, crucial elements and working up to those large-scale, extraneous projects like shiny collector's editions.

But perhaps one of the most important lessons here is that realizing your writing isn't as good as you believed freaking sucks—but it's how you grapple with that realization that can make you an even better writer than you thought you were.

I see myself in Audra Winter. I've been that bright-eyed, 22-year-old writer with a story I was immensely passionate about.

And I like to think that means, in a few years, she'll be a 29-year-old writer who knows she doesn't have it all figured out, knows that she doesn't have to have it all figured out, and is continuing to find her way (and herself) as a writer.