Alick Deacon is a fiction writer who spends an unsettling amount of time asking “What if?” and then following that question far too seriously. A scientist by training, a musician by instinct, and a storyteller by compulsion, he writes novels where logic and imagination shake hands… and then immediately start arguing.
Before dedicating himself to fiction, Alick worked in the sciences, where he developed a keen appreciation for data, rigour, and the ability to keep a straight face while explaining very complicated things to people who definitely did not want complicated things explained to them. This analytical background now fuels his writing — expect grounded speculative ideas, cause‑and‑effect you can practically graph, and the occasional storyline held together with the literary equivalent of lab tape.
Music has been the other constant in Alick’s life, and he insists it influences his writing even when no one asked. Years of performing and composing left him with an ear for rhythm, pacing and dramatic crescendos, which makes his chapters suspiciously like songs: they build, they break, they brood, they sometimes go unexpectedly loud, and they’re absolutely impossible to get out of your head once they settle in.
His stories tend to live where the everyday rubs uncomfortably against the extraordinary — strange technologies, psychological knots, morally questionable people making morally questionable decisions (relatable, really). Beneath the weirdness, though, he always comes back to what matters most: characters trying — and often failing — to navigate the beautifully messy business of being human.
When he isn’t writing, Alick can usually be found tinkering with a new musical idea, poking at a scientific concept he swears will definitely end up in a book, or quietly observing the world for future narrative material (which is not as ominous as it sounds, probably).