The Challenges of Writing Skim
When I started writing Skim (originally titled Echoes of a Fraction), I thought the hardest part would be getting the technical details right about how financial systems work, how money moves invisibly through code, and with a few lines of logic you can change everything.
I was wrong.
The real challenge turned out to be psychological. Skim isn’t just about technology or finance , it’s about temptation. It’s about how a good person, under pressure, can start rationalizing small decisions that slowly turn catastrophic. Writing that descent honestly meant stepping into my protagonist’s head and staying there for long stretches. It was exhausting and sometimes uncomfortably close to real experiences I’d seen in the corporate world.
There were days I’d walk away from the keyboard thinking, What would I have done in his place? And the truth was, I wasn’t always sure.
Another surprise was how much emotional energy it took to make the story believable. Financial thrillers risk becoming either too dry or too far-fetched. My goal was to make readers feel the pulse of that environment, the moral ambiguity, the pressure, the slow erosion of conscience — without losing the human story at its core.
And then there’s the title itself. The word “Skim” captures both the act and the mentality taking just a little off the top, convincing yourself it’s harmless, until it isn’t. Finding that single word felt like a breakthrough, as if the whole book finally understood what it wanted to be.
Looking back, writing Skim taught me that stories about money are rarely just about money. They’re about people our fears, ambitions, and the dangerous comfort of compromise.
If you’ve ever worked in a high-pressure world or made a choice that kept you up at night, you’ll recognize the heartbeat behind this story.
David Dart
I was wrong.
The real challenge turned out to be psychological. Skim isn’t just about technology or finance , it’s about temptation. It’s about how a good person, under pressure, can start rationalizing small decisions that slowly turn catastrophic. Writing that descent honestly meant stepping into my protagonist’s head and staying there for long stretches. It was exhausting and sometimes uncomfortably close to real experiences I’d seen in the corporate world.
There were days I’d walk away from the keyboard thinking, What would I have done in his place? And the truth was, I wasn’t always sure.
Another surprise was how much emotional energy it took to make the story believable. Financial thrillers risk becoming either too dry or too far-fetched. My goal was to make readers feel the pulse of that environment, the moral ambiguity, the pressure, the slow erosion of conscience — without losing the human story at its core.
And then there’s the title itself. The word “Skim” captures both the act and the mentality taking just a little off the top, convincing yourself it’s harmless, until it isn’t. Finding that single word felt like a breakthrough, as if the whole book finally understood what it wanted to be.
Looking back, writing Skim taught me that stories about money are rarely just about money. They’re about people our fears, ambitions, and the dangerous comfort of compromise.
If you’ve ever worked in a high-pressure world or made a choice that kept you up at night, you’ll recognize the heartbeat behind this story.
David Dart
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