I’m Not Reinventing Myself—Here’s What I’m Carrying Forward

Hey everyone! I know it’s been a hot minute since you have seen a post from me. First of all I would like to point out, as I always do, Burn out is fucking real and neglecting the signs is the quickest one way track to laying on your couch doom scrolling the day away. While also trying to convince yourself you will get up in a few minutes to handle that task that is now glaring at you. 

Now, couple that with the plague hitting my house like a 747 and you have a small glimpse into what I have been dealing with for the last two-ish months. I got sick about two weeks before Thanksgiving and stayed sick till just after. Gremlin got sick on the first day of Christmas Break and is just recently back up to par. Thankfully the other half hasn’t caught more than a cough that was quickly handled.

And that’s life at this grand moment in time. Fighting off sickness, while also trying to get work done, is enough to make you want to scream. Also with the Gremlin off school, let's just say no parent is getting anything done right now. If you are out there with littles, special needs, or teens that think the cleaning fairy will get it, my hats off to y’all. We are all in the same fucking boat right now. 

Which leads me into the whole topic of this post. Every year around this time, the internet gets loud about reinvention. All about New year, new you. Burn it all down. Become unrecognizable. 

That’s never been how my life worked. Hell the best I ever got into doing anything like that was picking a new hair color, maybe trying a new style, but never reinventing myself. Because here is the kicker, I’m unapologetically ME. I don’t need a new personality, a new spine, or a clean slate. I’ve earned what I carry, and I’m done pretending survival skills are flaws that need polishing away. Because when push comes to shove, it has been my skills, in various areas, that have been sought after from my friends. From cooking to automotive, I have walked them through the steps from hundreds if not thousands of miles away. 

What I and so many others need to be doing is choosing what comes with us into the new year. Think on that for one moment please. You don’t like your job? Figure out how to get into something that will fulfill you, while also keeping a roof over your head. (VERY IMPORTANT) You don’t like the company you keep? Maybe it's time to thin the herd a little. You recognize the person you see in the mirror? Honey, it's time for you to have a hard conversation with yourself. And this is just a few really great examples that I see everyday being thrown out there.

I am personally carrying forward the parts of me that learned how to function under pressure. Not that I haven’t been a master pro at that since I was like 8, but I’ve learned how to do it with a little bit more grace for myself. I’m taking the version of me that can build something out of scraps, keep moving when plans collapse, and tell the truth even when it’s uncomfortable to do so. 

I’m carrying forward the creativity that shows up messy and late but always honest. The instinct to write through confusion instead of waiting for clarity. The refusal to package pain into something pretty just to make it palatable for others. Because at the end of the day that pain turned into a warning tale that so many others read. 

I’m carrying forward boundaries that don’t require explanations, because at the end of the day when I say “hey that’s not gunna fly” Bet your boots its not going to. My private life is private unless I wish to share it. And when I say life be life-in, understand it's not that I don’t want to but I need to step back, because if I don’t no one is going to be happy with anything I do… Most of all, me. Love, creativity, and friendship doesn’t need an audience to be real.

What I’m not carrying forward is the expectation to perform growth for anyone else. The pressure to smooth my edges for approval. The belief that healing means becoming quieter, softer, or easier to digest. Because we all know that just isn’t who I am. Not as a person, mom, wife, writer, author, Co-Host or friend, I’m the same way online as you meet at any one of these conventions. I refuse to be anything other than who I am.

Growth, for me, in the new year looks like discernment. Choosing where my energy goes, and most importantly who/what it goes on. Because we are all out here begging for scraps (whether that be attention, time, or affection) from people who wouldn’t throw a glass of water on us if we were on fire, wouldn’t give food if we were hungry, or let us crash on their couches if we had no where else to go. 

This is where the line gets drawn in the concrete not the sand. The tide will come in and take away that line on the sand, not the concrete. We all have to stand like statues in our peace, our convictions if you will, if we are to see any real change and stop circling the drain.

This space exists because I’ve been done with shrinking my voice to fit algorithms, timelines, or trends. I’m here to write honestly, live intentionally, and let the work speak for itself. No reinvention. Just continuation—with purpose.

So as we step from one dumpster fire into another (lets just set the expectation now), Are we team New Year New ME, or are we team leave what isn’t working and keep moving forward? Because the 2nd seems like a whole ass better option. So I pose this question for you my dear reader: What are you leaving behind and what are you carrying forward with you?

 Tell me in the comments. I’m always here listening. And BTW if you don’t have anything going on Saturday nights, Come watch me and my crew. Links Below! Hope to See you there!

Be Brave, Be Bold, But ALWAYS Stay Humble.

https://www.twitch.tv/holdmypenpromptcast

www.youtube.com/@HoldMyPenPromptcast

Plot Twists and Laundry: Which Will Claim My Sanity First?

Hey Peps. Bet you were wondering where I have been. Well…. I hit burn out at the speed of light, crashing head first into the brick wall of life at the speed of sound. Factor in the day to day writing, lack of sales and stress… You have a recipe for disaster.  So, the only thing I could do for the last little bit is take two giant ass steps back.

While I was gone though, I did start working on a new book. Well, not new new it was something that I had been dabbling with since the summer but really hunkered down working on. Cuts and Cufflinks, a biker billionaire romance. Here’s the fun part… She’s the biker. With any real luck it will be out in time for Indie in Indy next Aug. 

Now for the burning questions that seem to be raging through my fans minds… When is the next book in the 4 Queens for 4 Kings series going to be coming out… well there is no real answer for that one. I will finish the stories. I have not abandoned the Queens. Its just hard for me to look at them right now. The people that the queens were based off of either have moved on in more ways than one or no longer want to be part of the project. This leaves me with a sinking sorrow. 

See, there’s a special kind of madness that happens when your creative life and your real life collide. One minute, you’re knee-deep in a scene where your characters are arguing over who gets the last word—and the next, you’re elbow-deep in a pile of laundry that smells like someone fought a war in it. Both situations require strategy, emotional stamina, and possibly caffeine in IV form.

I’ve decided that writing and laundry are basically the same battle in different outfits. Both pile up when you’re not looking. Both demand attention right when you’ve found your flow. And both can make you question every life choice that brought you here. The Never-Ending Spin Cycle

Writing is just another spin cycle, isn’t it? You think you’re done with revisions, but then one character whispers, “Actually, I think I’d rather stab someone in this scene.” Suddenly, you’re replotting three chapters and questioning whether you’ve accidentally written a thriller instead of a romance. Meanwhile, your dryer beeps—again—and you realize you’ve washed the same load three times because you keep forgetting to switch it over.

At this point, I’m convinced the dryer and my manuscript are in cahoots. Every time I think I’ve made progress, they both reset themselves out of spite.

The Great Character vs. Sock Conspiracy

I’ve lost track of how many socks have disappeared and how many characters have refused to follow the damn outline. Coincidence? I think not. Somewhere in the universe, there’s a parallel dimension filled with my lost socks, abandoned storylines, and plot bunnies reproducing faster than I can keep up.

The real villain in every story I write might just be the chaos of my own making. And honestly, that feels fair.

The Writer’s Juggle

Between deadlines, day jobs, parenting, and trying to keep the house from looking like a crime scene, it’s easy to feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water. My brain doesn’t know when to shut off, so while I’m folding towels, I’m also mentally rewriting dialogue. By the time I’ve finished the towels, I’ve forgotten the line entirely. Genius ideas apparently have a five-minute expiration date.

But the truth is, that juggling act—the chaos, the mess, the unglamorous day-to-day grind—is what fuels the stories. Every meltdown, every overloaded laundry basket, every sleepless night trying to untangle both real and fictional problems gives the words their weight.

Finding Sanity in the Madness

I used to think that to be productive, everything had to be perfect first. The house. The mood. The energy. The mythical balance that doesn’t actually exist. Now, I know better. The mess is part of it. The chaos is the process.

Some days, the words win. Some days, the laundry does.

And some days, I’m just grateful to survive both without crying into the hamper or keyboard.

So if you’re out there, staring down a blank page or a mountain of laundry—or both—just know this: you’re not alone in the spin cycle. Keep writing. Keep moving. Keep laughing when the dryer eats another sock. Because one day, you’ll look up from the chaos and realize you’ve created something beautiful out of the mess.

Even if it’s just a story and a single matching pair of socks.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble

Sleep Deprivation and Storytelling: The Ugly Truth

    Buckle up buttercup, this is gunna be a long one.

    There’s this romanticized idea that writers thrive on chaos. You’ve seen it in movies, in memes, in the way people joke about surviving on nothing but caffeine, nicotine, cold pizza, and “the muse”, that has jokes. We laugh at all the misconceptions of what a writer/ author physically looks like. Why? Because it's funny, and unfortunately, there is a small or large grain of truth to it. But there’s a darker side to it that doesn’t get talked about nearly enough. Sleep deprivation isn’t just some quirky “writer's life” tag line. It’s brutal. It’s ugly. And sometimes, it’s dangerous.

I’m not talking about the occasional late night where you’re in the zone and lose track of time. Or when you wake in the middle of the night needing to write something down, before you lose it. Then BAM, it's 6:15am and it’s time to get the kids up and ready for school. 

 I’m talking about days on end of being barely able to function because your brain refuses to shut down. Life, kicking you in ass after said late night, and now, you don’t get the chance to rest because you have other shit that needs your attention. 

For me, it’s usually a mix of both. Parenting, deadlines, and emotional overload collide until I’m staring at the ceiling at 3am, counting down the hours until I have to get up and do it all over again. A tightness in my chest is growing, because I think I’m letting everyone down. Then my mind shifts so hard into fifth gear you’d swear you heard the gears grind.

And let me tell you, writing through that kind of fog isn’t glamorous. It’s a war. War with fictional characters that scream loud enough to crack pains of glass. War with the setting because if I do it this way or that way it might not be believable. War with myself over the imposter syndrome, that seems to creep in just as shits going down. 

When I sit down at the keyboard after three hours of broken sleep, the words come out differently. Sometimes they flow too fast, like a dam cracked open and everything I’ve been holding back pours onto the page, unfiltered and raw. Other times, it’s like pulling teeth without novocaine. Slow, Painful, and Jagged while you're screaming and crying. 

The strange thing about writing while sleep-deprived is that the voice in your head doesn’t shut up, but your ability to catch it and shape it into something coherent falters. You end up with pieces of brilliance tangled in nonsense. Whole paragraphs where you go back the next day and think: Wow. That’s either the most honest thing I’ve ever written or complete garbage. Possibly both.

That’s the ugly truth: sleep deprivation doesn’t just affect your body; it twists your storytelling. And sometimes, the work you produce in those dark hours can’t be replicated in the light of day. Which becomes frustrating, if you finally found the voice for that one damn character that doesn’t seem to sound right at any other time.  

Now, let's talk about how the human husk starts keeping score.

Sleep deprivation doesn’t just make you cranky. It wrecks your body. The headaches, the short fuse, the endless coffee jitters that do nothing but dig you into a deeper hole. All of it adds up. And as much as I love being “the strong one,” I’ve had to learn (the hard way) that my body always cashes the checks my sleepless nights write. Which constantly leaves me owing spoons and/or fucks to give.

For me, it’s the shakes in my hands when I type too long. The pain in my wrists that seem to go up my arm from trying to keep my hands on home row. The crash that hits out of nowhere when I finally sit down after a day of sprinting from one task to the next. My patience with the people I love wears razor thin, and that guilt lingers far longer than the exhaustion itself. Sleep deprivation makes me feel like I’m failing twice. Once in the moment, and again when I see the fallout.

Storytelling on Empty isn’t something we talk about but we have all experienced it one way or another.

Here’s the catch: sleep deprivation doesn’t stop me from doing my job as a writer or parent. In fact, sometimes it fuels it. The ugly truth is that some of my rawest, most gut-punching scenes have come from nights when I was too tired to put up my usual walls. Exhaustion strips away the polish. It drags your subconscious into the spotlight and says: Okay, you’re too tired to censor this. Let’s go. 

That’s when characters reveal truths I wasn’t planning on. That’s when villains start sounding like people I know in real life. That’s when the plot twists cut a little deeper because they’re born from a place I wouldn’t touch if I had my full defenses up. But there’s a cost.

Every time I write on empty, I’m borrowing against tomorrow and all the other tomorrows. And eventually, tomorrow shows up wanting interest, a formal apology, and dinner. 

The Balance I Haven’t Mastered, so don’t feel bad if you haven’t either. After all, we are being honest here. 

I wish I could wrap this post up with some tidy advice like: Go to bed earlier! or Make sleep part of your self-care routine! But that wouldn’t be honest. The truth is, I haven’t mastered this balance. I probably never will as long as my “Office” is less than 10 steps from my bed. Because in my life there is no work like balance, there is only “Get up and do the damn thing” no matter what the “damn thing” happens to be. 

I write because I want and need to. I parent because I love my Gremlin more than anything. I push through the exhaustion because life doesn’t stop just because I’m tired, or had a bad day. And if I wait for the “perfect” rested moment to write, I might never write at all. Let’s face facts “perfection” is highly over rated. The mess and chaos are what make life worth living, when your body is screaming “you’ve lost your damn mind”.

So, I make peace with the ugly truth: some nights will bleed into mornings, and some mornings will start with Red Bull in hand, a cigarette hanging out of my mouth, and a messy bun from the day before instead of the put together MOM. My words will sometimes come out jagged, sometimes brilliant, sometimes both. That’s part of the deal I’ve struck with myself as both a writer and a human being surviving not only on but also with the chaos.

Why Do I Keep Going?

At the end of the day (or night), the stories matter. My son matters. My survival matters. And if the cost of telling the truth — in my life, in my fiction, in my blog posts — is a few more sleepless nights, then I’ll pay it. Because when push comes to shove, I know I have a gift. I have the ability to make others see, feel and experience something. And what kind of person would I be if I kept that to myself. Selfish that’s what I’d be.

But I’ll also admit, here in the raw light of honesty, that I’m tired. I’m bone-deep tired. And I know some of you reading this are too.

So maybe the only real advice I can offer is this: give yourself grace. If you’re writing through exhaustion, if you’re stumbling through the day, if you’re holding it all together with caffeine and stubbornness, and the will to not end up on an episode of SNAPPED, you’re not alone. The stories will come. They always do. The house will eventually get cleaned. It always does. The kids will be fed. Even in the ugly truth of sleep deprivation, everything finds a way.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s where the most real storytelling happens. Drop some comments about your struggle bus moments.

REMEMBER:

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

Plot Holes So Big You Could Drive a Truck Through Them (and how you patch them).

Happy Tuesday everyone, and welcome to another installment of Plot Holes & Panic Buttons. Today, we are diving headfirst into the one thing we as writers never want to deal with. The dreaded plot hole… *que dramatic music* Honestly, it isn’t that we don’t want to deal with it, it's just not something we like to acknowledge.  

Writers don’t always like to admit it, but sometimes the story we’re pouring our soul into springs a leak the size of the Grand Canyon. We might not notice it right away but when a character magically knows something they shouldn’t, when time lines don't add up, when an impossible detail slips before it’s time, or when a reader raises their hand and says: “Wait a second… how did they get from point A to point B?” or “According to the established magic system they should have known this was their mate already.”

Plot holes are the bane of a storyteller’s existence, but it is also what teaches us to slow down and look closer. Because let’s face facts, some of us write so fast we don’t see the cracks right away. Sometimes someone has to point it out to us. And by the time we see it; it’s big enough to drive an 18-wheeler through it with room on either side.

They creep in while we’re distracted with getting the draft done as fast as humanly possible, pantsing with wild ambition, and yes, even meticulously outlining. They aren’t always mistakes born of laziness. Sometimes they’re just the natural side effect of creating complex worlds and flawed human characters. But the truth is, once a reader falls into a hole, it’s hard to climb back out. And it's the only damn thing they concentrate on, which pulls them out of the rich world and complex characters we have created. 

I know this all too well, as I am guilty of it. Details I don’t think are that important happen to be the only ones people get hung up on. Having to go back and explain each time, becomes a headache and a half which runs you in circles.

So, how do we fix them, you might be asking? Without ripping the entire manuscript apart, causing a mental breakdown, or letting imposter syndrome take center stage. Let’s talk about patches. 

1. Spotting the Sinkholes Early

The first step is being honest about where your story feels like it’s soft or as I like to say squishy. If someone stepped on it would they fall through or would it hold their weight. For my crime show people: If you had to defend that scene in court, could you? Would your characters’ decisions hold up under cross-examination, is your evidence strong enough or would the jury laugh you out of the room?

Most of the time, I overly fixate on these problems once I see them. If you ask any of my friends, they will tell you I can’t move on from this problem, because for me, I now have to remember what was supposed to go there. Or why it’s not being understood when I said it in plain Penguin.  

Izzy, especially, has to break it down with a series of questions to get me to see the bigger picture and remind me not everyone is a gearhead. Not everyone grew up around classic cars and bikes. Which apparently is one of my trademarks, strong ass females and some sort of classic. Izzy also loves to call me out every gap my subconscious forgot to fill in on the page.

Okay, You have found the issues but now how do you fix them, without pulling your hair out. On to Step 2.

2. The Patchwork Quilt Method

Not every hole needs a total rewrite. Sometimes it just needs a subtle tweak. All it takes is a line or two of dialogue, adjusting the narration a smidgy bit to sew the edges together. Think of this process more like saving your favorite pair of jeans. 

Continuity errors? Drop in a sentence that clarifies timing or geography. 

Knowledge gaps? Let a character overhear, research, or be told what they “shouldn’t” know. 

Unlikely behavior? Add a moment of hesitation, frustration, or justification that shows why the character still went that route. Sometimes just alluding to danger can fix it right up.

Think of it like spackling a wall; you don’t have to rebuild the whole house to cover a crack. You're just throwing a patch and some mud and calling it a damn day. Because sometimes it’s just that damn serious, unless you let it get that way.

3. Lean Into It

Here’s a sneaky trick: sometimes the best fix is to make the hole intentional. If something feels implausible, what if your characters notice too? A “why would you do that?” moment lampshades the issue and gives you time to reveal the reasoning later. (Make sure there is going to be a reason later though. No need to do this if you're not going to do it right.)

Readers forgive a lot if they trust that you know what’s going on, even if they don’t. Suspense thrives on withheld answers. But in the same flip of the coin, you can lose all kinds of readers if they don’t get their answers.

4. The Hard Truth: Rewrite When You Must

Of course, not every hole is patchable with duct tape and a prayer. Sometimes you discover that an entire subplot, timeline, or motivation is built on sand. That’s when you have to be brave enough to bulldoze and rebuild. I like to call it salvage what you can and burn the rest. 

Yes, it hurts. Yes, it will make you cry. But remember: no reader ever said, “I wish the author had left that gaping contradiction in there.”

5. Futureproofing Your Story

To avoid holes before they start, keep a “story bible” or continuity doc. Track timelines, ages, relationships, and rules of your world. You don’t have to be obsessive, but jotting down those details saves you from having your hero’s eye color change three times or accidentally breaking the laws of your own magic system. Or in my case, renaming three characters four times. And never remember who is who.

Thankfully with 4 Queens for 4 Kings Series, Izzy has the all holy bible. I am not trusted in the amount of Chaos I write in.

At the End of the Day… Plot holes don’t make you a bad writer. They make you a human writer. Every single book you love once had early drafts with cracks big enough to swallow semis. The only difference is, those authors patched them before you ever saw the pages.

So when you find yourself staring at one of those yawning chasms in your own work, don’t panic. Grab your toolbox/ sewing kit. Spackle, Lampshade, or full demolition crew and get to work. This is going to make you a better writer if you let it. You are differently going to learn a lot about how your brain works. And maybe next time you won't have to pay the demo crew overtime. 

Your readers will never know how many trucks you had to haul out of there. They’ll just remember the smooth road you left behind. 

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

The Soundtrack to My Writing Process — songs that fuel your scenes.

You ever get a song stuck in your head and are like, “What does this even mean?”, “Why is it here?” Or my personal favorite… “What is my muse or character trying to tell me?” Because as random as we would like to think it is, it isn’t. Some writers need outside stimulation to spark inspiration. Some, like myself, rely on music, movies, or even art. 

For example:

My Double-Edged Series is completely based on Nickelback songs. Crossroads is Far Away. The Demon You Made is Lullaby. Ain’t No Cinderella is a mix of Shaking Hands and Something In Your Mouth. With the series rounding out with the last two songs of Photograph and Someday. As of right now, it’ll be five stand alones with floating characters between books.

Now the 4 Queens for 4 Kings Series along with the Destined Chronicles, that’s a different mix all together. I start out with 5 Finger Death Punch and could easily move to Ozzy, Brantley Gilbert, Nickelback, or even Kid Rock, all depending on the scene along with emotions I’m trying to invoke. 

What I am getting at here, is that music is powerful on its own. We all have that one song that we can either listen to amp up or make us bawl our eyes out. It brings us back to a time and place with people that we no longer see. It can invoke such strong emotion that we can feel ten feet tall and bullet proof. 

Some writers can’t listen to music with the lyrics when they are actively putting words on the paper. Others listen, then make everything as quiet as possible to see the words fly from their fingertips. While one set of writers like classical music, another loves metal, country, or even R&B. Music, in whatever genre, is as unique as the words writers put on the page. 

Writing has the same unique classifications. And no two writers, even when given the same prompt, have the same story. Like the way you can give the same lyrics to three different bands/singers and you will get three different songs. It’s never wrong, just different.

So, let me leave you with this. While your process might look strange to others, it's not wrong, it's you. It doesn’t matter how you get the words on the damn page only that you do. Because someone out there wants to hear your unique voice and that of your characters. Writing is as fluid as music, with rises and falls just like the tempo to a song. So find your tempo, find your beat, and make a masterpiece. 

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

The Things My Kids Teach Me About Resilience

I’ve learned more about resilience from my child than from any self-help book, podcast, or motivational speaker. Honestly, half the time I think I’m the one teaching him how to handle the world, when in reality he’s teaching me.

Kids bounce back in ways adults forget how to. They fall down, they get up. They have meltdowns, then five minutes later they’re asking for a snack like nothing happened. They don’t carry grudges the way we do. They don’t spend hours replaying a mistake until it eats them alive. They just…move forward.

Watching my son face challenges, especially the ones that feel unfair, the ones that most adults would crumble under, reminds me of what real strength looks like. He doesn’t stop showing up just because it’s hard. He doesn’t stop smiling, laughing, or being himself. He adapts. He finds new ways to make it through. Especially, since he doesn’t see the world like we see the world. 

And every time I think I can’t handle one more thing, I remember: there are two little eyes watching what I do, so he knows what to do. If I’m angry, he’s angry. If I’m okay, he’s okay. Kids feed off of us the same way a lot of us learned to read a room before we learned to read a book. 

Resilience isn’t about never breaking. It’s about breaking and then piecing yourself back together anyway. It’s about finding joy in the middle of the mess. It’s about having the courage to try again even when yesterday knocked you flat on your ass. It’s also remembering the reward of fighting through when it looks like shit isn’t ever going to change.

My kid reminds me of that every single day. He shows me that it’s okay to be scared, frustrated, or exhausted, and it’s also okay to keep going anyway.

So when I feel like giving up, I think about him. The way he faces every obstacle head-on, even the invisible ones. The way he refuses to let struggle define him. The way he keeps moving forward with a strength that humbles me. Because if he can do it, then so can I.

Weekly Reflection: Finding Strength in Chaos

This week has been a whirlwind both in life and on the page. From turning real-life chaos into fictional drama, to trying to wrestle characters into the stories I thought I wanted to tell, to learning how to step back and give myself a break, and finally, to seeing resilience in the smallest lessons from my kid. I’ve been reminded of one constant: strength often shows up in the mess.

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed when the world doesn’t slow down. It’s easy to feel guilty for taking a moment for yourself. It’s easy to feel like you’re losing control. But if there’s one thing this week has taught me, it’s that chaos doesn’t have to break you. It can teach you, fuel you, and even inspire you.

Through the mess, through the frustration, through the exhaustion, I’ve learned that resilience isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, adapting, and finding joy and purpose even when the storm is raging. My stories, my characters, and my little Chaos Gremlin remind me of this every day. And as I close this week, I carry that lesson forward: I can navigate the chaos, write the wounds, and still find the beauty in it all. Because when push comes to shove, things are going to happen whether you’re ready or not.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble.

Writing the Wounds I Don’t Talk About Out Loud

Some wounds never really close. People like to say “time heals,” but I don’t buy it. Time just teaches you how to carry the weight differently. Some days it’s lighter. Some days it drags you down so far you wonder if you’ll ever stand straight again. And more often than not it's the anchor around your feet pulling you into the deep, never to return to the surface. 

I don’t always talk about those wounds out loud. Some of them are too messy, too complicated, too full of jagged edges that other people don’t want to see. But I do write them.

When I write, I let the cracks show. I let the anger and grief and heartbreak slip through the words. I let my characters say the things I can’t. I let them break down in ways I’m too tired or too stubborn to. I let them rage against the unfairness that I’ve learned to just…live with.

It doesn’t make the pain disappear, but it transforms it. On the page, it’s not just mine anymore. It’s part of a story. It’s a piece of something bigger. And sometimes, that’s the only way I can survive it—by turning it into something that doesn’t just sit in the dark corners of my chest.

The truth is, writing the wounds I don’t say out loud is scary. It means admitting the pain is real. It means facing things I’d rather keep buried. But every time I do, I feel lighter. Not because the wounds are healed, but because they’re acknowledged. They’re seen.

And maybe that’s why readers connect with these kinds of stories so fiercely. We all carry wounds we don’t talk about. We all have those shadows that creep in at night or sit quietly behind our smiles. When I write mine, I’m not just bleeding onto the page—I’m holding out a hand and saying, “Me too.”

So no, time doesn’t heal all wounds. But writing? Writing gives me a way to keep walking with them. To give them meaning instead of just pain. To let them live in the light, even when I can’t bring myself to speak to them out loud.

Be Brave, Be Bold, But Always Stay Humble