SenLinYu’s Singular Alchemy

“I’m a person who prefers to underpromise and then, hopefully, overdeliver,” author SenLinYu tells me on a sunny June afternoon. Seven years ago, when Sen was a stay-at-home parent composing a sprawling, Harry Potter-inspired epic on their phone, keeping expectations low was easy. But now, millions of downloads, dozens of language translations, a two-book deal with a major publisher, and tens of thousands of preorders later, it’s all but impossible.

We’re on the 16th floor of Penguin Random House, chatting in a corner office with a glamorous skyline view. It’s the day before Sen’s sold-out event at Manhattan’s legendary Strand bookstore, where 170 tearful fans will gather to celebrate Alchemised, the 1,040-page dark fantasy novel that the attendees haven’t yet read, and that won’t be released for three more months, on Sept. 23. Petite and slightly bashful in a floral print dress, Sen gives no indication that they have an army of ardent admirers at their disposal. (Much like Alchemised’s main character, Helena, they’re far more powerful than they let on.) After years of preserving anonymity, Sen has stepped out of their comfort zone by agreeing to an in-person interview. It’s just one of many boundary-testing promotional forays leading up to the book’s release, which Sen wryly refers to as being “thrown into the face of the sun.” And yet, they’ve taken to it like a pro. During our conversation they strike an admirable balance between candor and reserve, answering thoughtfully and generously while still protecting their privacy — a priority evident in the continued use of their pen name.

Anyone who’s wandered into romance reader spaces online has probably encountered adulation Manacled — the aforementioned Harry Potter-inspired epic, which Sen would later overhaul, sans Potter references, as Alchemised. The nearly 400,000-word story, originally serialized on Archive of Our Own (AO3), unites a sadistic (adult) Draco Malfoy and amnesiac (adult) Hermione Granger in a bleak timeline where Voldemort has wiped out Harry and most of his friends. Even among Dramione fanfics, two of which have been repurposed into New York Times bestsellers in this year alone, Manacled is a sensation, notorious for traumatizing readers with its heartbreaking twists and depictions of unremitting suffering. (In both Manacled and Alchemised, the plot entails torture, mass death, rape, and forced pregnancy.) Though there is a strong love element, Sen has said that Manacled is not a romance at all but rather a “dystopian horror story” — and fans can’t get enough.

Rarely is the title mentioned on social media without evoking comments like, “this book rearranged my DNA,” “my chest hurts anytime I think about it,” or “will haunt me until the day I die.” A typical post on the 65,000-follower-strong Dramione subreddit asks simply, “How to move on from Manacled?” It’s a question Sen, 34, has been wondering, too.

Harry Potter fandom can be a powerful thing — even more so for SenLinYu, who grew up outside of Portland, Oregon, in a conservative Christian household where all seven children were homeschooled and forbidden from partaking in contemporary culture. But when 12-year-old Sen caught wind of the Potter phenomenon in the early 2000s, curiosity won out. A little digging on the family computer led first to the encyclopedia site HP-lexicon.com, then fan fiction outlets full of gay characters and writers. Queer fandom was “one of the first fault lines, I suppose you could say, of me beginning to question all the things that I had been taught,” says Sen, who came to realize that they were nonbinary through the material, which felt as eye-opening as it did illicit. “I was not supposed to be there,” Sen remembers with a laugh, “and every time my dad found out, he would block the website and I would have to go and find another one.”

Sen, who is half Japanese, already felt like something of an outsider in their overwhelmingly white hometown. Their mother was born to a family interred in American concentration camps during WWII, despite having citizenship. As a result, their grandparents withheld much of their cultural and linguistic heritage for fear of appearing “un-American.” “While most of my brothers were regarded as white-passing,” Sen recalls, “I wasn’t, and got a lot more comments about my ethnicity.”

Still, the biggest conflict in Sen’s young life was with their mother. A professional ballet dancer who’d converted to Christianity during her late teens, she had “a lot of projected ideas of what it would be like to have a daughter,” Sen says. One of those was that only men would benefit from a college education. Sen was told they’d have to land a full scholarship on their own if they wanted to go.

It was a crushing blow to a child who shared Hermione’s penchant for academics. From an early age, Sen aspired to practice medicine, and, with their oldest brother’s help, even managed to volunteer at a midwifery clinic. But while they were in their late teens, their mother fell ill, and Sen focused on taking care of her until her passing. In the wake of the family’s loss, Sen looked after their younger siblings, resigned to staying home until marriage. Then, their father asked if Sen wanted to go to college.

“I was like, ‘Wait. Is that an option? Am I allowed to go to college?’” Though Sen laughs as they channel their younger self’s suspicious incredulity, it’s obviously a potent memory. Their mother had been so adamantly opposed that Sen never considered going to their dad for a second opinion: “He was baffled — and I nearly burst into tears.”

By 19, Sen enrolled in a small Christian college a few states away. There, after being in the fandom for seven years, they finally read the actual Harry Potter series. They were surprised at how few of the major fanfic themes — “redemption, PTSD, processing grief, ethics in war” — were present in the novels. “In retrospect, it’s obvious that those fan works were written as a response to a perceived absence,” they add, “but discovering the topics I considered fundamental to the story weren’t a primary focus of the books was a surprise.”

Attending university wasn’t quite a dream come true. Sen was beginning to seriously push back against the ideologies that had dominated their life, and clashed with many of their professors as a result. But they don’t hold a grudge. “I would not be the person I am today if I hadn’t gone there,” they say easily. Throughout our time together, Sen is remarkably gracious, expressing no bitterness or self-pity about the early limitations placed on their intellect. Then as now, it seems, they’re driven by insatiable curiosity, not personal aggrievement.

In retrospect, it’s obvious that those fan works were written as a response to a perceived absence.

After graduating with a degree in classical arts and culture, one of their brothers, who knew that Sen was struggling to find their footing, suggested they come live with him in Washington, D.C. They got a job at Chick-fil-A — “I had to say ‘my pleasure’ to so many people!” — and met the government contractor who, after about nine months of serious dating, became their husband. (Sen says they were drawn to him because, unlike the other men they’d dated, he shared their broad interests and curiosity: “We could talk about all kinds of different things.”)

Sen had considered going to grad school, but now family life took precedence. They had their first child, returned to Portland in 2015, and had another kid. Child care was all-consuming, and they had little in the way of adult companionship; they’d lost touch with their childhood friends, and their siblings were scattered around the country. “I was afraid of losing myself to motherhood,” Sen says. “I didn’t want my children to feel like my identity and sense of fulfillment was dependent on them, which is something I’d seen and experienced growing up.” Longing for a creative outlet, Sen recalled learning about how Jane Austen got her start writing piecemeal while caring for nieces and nephews.

“I was always saying that I will write someday, and I never do,” they remember thinking. “I always come up with an excuse.” Ten years earlier, just before their mom passed, Sen had actually started a Harry Potter fanfic and posted the first chapter online. But when they went to share the second, the site was gone, and they took it as a sign to quit.

This time, they resolved to follow through: “It was kind of a way to give back to all these people that I have been reading for a really long time,” Sen says. They’d been captivated by the notion of a Draco-Hermione pairing since they came across it during their teen years, as part of a love triangle story with Harry. The complications and tensions entailed in the enemies-to-lovers evolution was “like catnip” to Sen, whose face lights up mischievously at the memory. They knew they’d enjoy “writing an event obstacle course and making the characters find a way to get through.” Their computer was broken, so they opened their phone’s Notes app and got started.

I was afraid of losing myself to motherhood. I didn’t want my children to feel like my identity and sense of fulfillment was dependent on them.

Sen’s first story, “Love and Other Misfortunes,” was posted on FanFiction.net in 2018 and was received enthusiastically by its readers. That gave Sen the confidence to turn to an idea they’d previously set aside: another Dramione story, this time crossed with A Handmaid’s Tale. They knew they wanted Manacled to unfold in an unconventional structure, across three parts that moved from present to past, then back to the present. That, as well as the story’s violence, pissed people off. Initial readers, who assumed romance and sexual chemistry would be foregrounded, sent furious letters when it failed to meet their expectations. But Sen was undeterred. “I had a really, really specific vision,” they say. “Sorry you don’t get it, but this is what you’re getting.” It wasn’t until well into Part Three that the angry missives dried up, replaced by genuine anticipation and excitement. Still, it wasn’t yet a phenomenon: Sen completed the story in August 2019 and assumed that, with the work concluded, everyone would move on. They themself did, by instantly starting another fic. (By now, they’ve written dozens.)

Then COVID hit, TikTok use exploded, and millions of people found themselves at home with abundant time for entertainment. First, Oprah Daily included Manacled on a list of the best Harry Potter fan fiction. Next, the popular fan artist Avendell posted a series of illustrations inspired by the work on Tumblr, which Sen credits with bringing in new readers who’d previously dismissed the work. The growing audience coalesced into its own distinct fandom, one that flooded social media with Manacled-inspired vlogs, art, and music. Fan-made language translations proliferated. Whenever Sen thought, “OK, we have to have hit all the people in the world that would ever want to read it by now,” it would go viral again, and the fandom would grow. On AO3, a fan fiction hub that hosts over 13 million works, Manacled became the second-most-read of all time — and AO3 wasn’t the only outlet where it was posted.

It’s tempting to chalk Manacled’s success up to the romantasy zeitgeist. But despite the impression given by swoony TikToks highlighting its love scenes, it’s so estranged from garden-variety romantic fantasy that it’s hard to imagine a version of the story would’ve been published at all had it not gone viral. Editors look for “comps,” meaning similar published works, to decide if a book fits into the market, and Alchemised truly has no easy comps. “It’s weird,” Sen says simply, “with a really weird story structure. Even if I had gone into self-publishing, I don’t think I would have been bold enough to do — creatively, artistically — what I was wanting to do.” Far more than sex or romance, Sen’s preoccupations are trauma, moral dilemmas, painful compromises, the costs of conflict, and the ways in which women are forced into roles of “unseen, unspoken sacrifice” that won’t be acknowledged as heroic or admirable.

“So much of what resonates in Alchemised is the unflinching, up-close look at the realities of war beyond the front lines,” says Sen’s editor at Del Rey, Emily Archbold. “Who gets to write the story once the war has been won?” Though the word doesn’t come up much in discussion of Manacled or Alchemised (yet), both manuscripts are deeply informed by a feminist point of view, one in which the ugliness of feminized labor — so often extractive, traumatizing, and ultimately erased — is laid bare. The iconic last line of each book, the one that tends to set readers sobbing, has nothing to do with romance at all.

Though it was gratifying to earn praise for their writing, Sen’s popularity posed some problems. They’d never made money from their work, but third parties began to profit, selling Sen’s phrases on T-shirts, totes, and mugs. Worse, a thriving market opened up for printed and bound copies of Manacled, usually interleaved with fan art from other uncompensated artists. (This market still exists on places like Etsy, where books average $100 but go up to $250.) Because these products contained Harry Potter IP, they put Sen in legal jeopardy: J.K. Rowling and other owners like Warner Bros. could, if they cared to, sue.

I didn’t want to be like, “No, this is my story. You can only do this list of things that I allow you to do.”

“I didn’t want to be like, ‘No, this is my story. You can only do this list of things that I allow you to do,’” Sen explains. But what had once been a hobby started resembling a full-time job, albeit an unpaid one. “I can’t do this any longer,” they thought. “I have children, and a life, and this is taking up so much of my time.” The best solution was to rework the title into an original, traditionally published manuscript — a process in the fanfic-to-publisher pipeline known as “sanding off the serial numbers.” On a mini-getaway in 2023, Sen spent a full day reconstituting Manacled from memory: the themes, the structure, the elements that they were most attached to, everything essential to its formation when they’d written it years ago. Serendipitously, shortly after, the two literary agents who currently represent the author reached out about working together — the first time any agent had done so. In February of 2024, Alchemised sold for an undisclosed amount.

Now, Sen is on the precipice of another major transition: moving from sheltered to exposed, private to public. For years, no one close to them, with the exception of their sister-in-law, knew that Sen wrote fanfic. They didn’t even tell their husband until 2021, when Sen needed to borrow his laptop to collaborate with another author, and, still, he didn’t grasp the magnitude of Manacled’s influence. They broke the news to their family members in stages, only after Manacled became a sensation, others while Alchemised was on submission, making sure everyone knew by the time the book deal was announced.

They demur on how impactful the money has been: “My instinct has been not to let much in the day to day change too dramatically. It still feels surreal.” Though they stick to an unremarkable domestic routine — posting up at a coffee shop after the kids go to school, tending to emails and meetings in the afternoon — they’re about to embark on an international book tour and will appear in-person at over a dozen events. While their pen name helps them retain some anonymity, they’ll be putting a face to their work to an unprecedented degree.

Then there’s the possibility of courting controversy. “Given Alchemised’s unconventional origins,” Sen admits, “it’s been a bit strange finding the right ways to talk about it.” Although indicators like 20 different language translations presage the book’s commercial success, it will inevitably face skepticism from a vocal cohort of orthodox readers who think publishers capitalize on viral fan works irrespective of quality. Fan fiction is still regarded by many as an illegitimate and amateurish genre, and J.K. Rowling’s anti-trans activism has added another unsavory layer to Harry Potter-inspired work.

I’ve always been very drawn to books and stories that are ruthless, the kinds that change you in ways you didn’t necessarily want to be changed.

“People misconstrued my participation in fandom space as some kind of endorsement of JKR’s anti-trans activism, which, as someone who is non-binary and who realized their identity through fandom communities, is not something I want association with,” Sen says. They recently limited their AO3 works to registered users, partially to keep it away from AI scrapers, but also because of Rowling’s “increasingly vocal and prolific transphobia.” (Fans passionately debate whether or not fan fiction — which doesn’t directly benefit Rowling monetarily, but does encourage a continued engagement with her IP — augments Rowling’s reach and wealth.) Their greatest hope for Alchemised is that it stand on its own. When one of their siblings read Alchemised and said he didn’t understand how Harry Potter could have ever been part of it, Sen was delighted. Though Sen is firm about separating Alchemised from Harry Potter, they will forever have a strong allegiance to the fandom, which taught them that “when someone’s identity, experience, or journey” doesn’t fit the established narrative, storytelling itself “needs to evolve.”

When they were 14, printing out illicit Harry Potter fanfics, one of the stories they chose was about a midlife crisis. “It pressed me into this realization that doing everything I was supposed to and waiting to be appreciated or rewarded for it wasn’t going to give me a life I wanted,” they say. What they’ve done with that realization has impacted countless readers already, with more still to come. And regardless of whatever reception awaits Alchemised, it’s far from the final word on Sen’s career. They’re already working on their second novel.

“I’ve always been very drawn to books and stories that are ruthless,” Sen says, “the kinds that change you in ways you didn’t necessarily want to be changed.”