The question I get most often isn't about plot or characters. It's simpler than that: "Why don't you just write one kind of book?"
I understand the instinct behind it. Publishing rewards a clean shelf label. A reader who loved my Roman-Britain saga, The Eagle's Rise, might reasonably expect the next Blake Patrick novel to also be about legions and rebellion — not a small English town under siege by mutated beetles.
But the truth is that every one of my books starts the same way, regardless of genre: with a person who has run out of good options. Gaius Marius Maximus, holding a fragile peace together against an empire that's learned exactly where to look. Sergeant Jane Wilkins, watching a swarm outpace everything she knows about keeping a town safe. Jane Mitchell, realising the partner she trusts most is the one thing standing between her and the truth.
Horror, historical fiction, crime, romance — they're just different pressure systems for testing the same question: who are you when the version of life you'd planned for stops being available to you?
So no, I don't write in one lane. I write toward one moment, over and over, in whatever setting makes that moment hit hardest. Sometimes that's a Roman road cutting through hostile forest. Sometimes it's a phone-in radio show at midnight. I'd rather chase the feeling than the shelf label.
If you've only read me in one genre so far, that's a fine place to start — but I'd gently suggest the others aren't as far from each other as the covers make them look.