If I’m being completely honest: myself.

I thought I needed to follow a certain path to be a novelist. I needed to write an incredible book, yes, but it was more than that.

I needed to find a literary agent.

I needed to go the traditional publishing path.

I needed to build an audience.

I needed to cultivate my craft.

I needed to have a career that supported my writing dreams, even if that meant working a nine-to-five that wasn’t quite what I wanted to do.

But were those ‘needs’ or were they ‘shoulds’?

About a year ago, I realized they were ‘shoulds,’ aka barriers I put in place for myself as a form of protection. Follow the advice of the professors, the gurus, the industry players, and it will all work out, and you’ll be able to publish and share your stories… eventually.

But the world is a whole lot different now. Self-publishing is bigger than ever. The internet makes it possible for anyone, anywhere, as long as they have internet and a computer, to share their ideas, thoughts, and stories (for better or worse). You want a ‘creative career’? There are boatloads of ways to do it now.

In February 2025, I was let go from a full-time job (one I loved, I might add), because of widespread budget cuts across the entire aid industry. I might have raged a bit. (Okay, more than a bit). I grieved.

But then I sat down, journaled about it, and kept circling back to my dreams of publishing: if not now, then when?

I committed to going all in on my creative writing dreams, starting with my young adult historical fantasy that just needed a bit of polishing before I hit the query trenches.

Not even four weeks later, my husband lost his job, too.

I screamed. Literally. Like, was this the universe telling me to back up and try again? Go back to the “old way” of doing things and sending out my resume like crazy?

No. I decided it wasn’t. If anything, it reminded me that absolutely nothing is guaranteed. That you can do all the “right” things, and you can still be kicked while you’re down. Some people might call it “irresponsible,” but I stopped looking for full-time work.

I returned to my freelance writing/editing, and while it took time to build back my roster of clients, I did it, including new projects with publishers like Sourcebooks. I started offering workshops. I started creating guided journals… and perhaps most importantly of all, I gave myself permission to write and submit like crazy.

Nearly a year to the day that my husband lost his job, I received an offer from Apprentice House Press to publish my book. They’re a small press, but a traditional one. I don’t have an agent. It wasn’t the “path” I had originally envisioned for myself, but it feels right.

Now, in just about a year, my debut novel will be hitting shelves. It still feels like a “pinch me” moment… but it would never have happened if I hadn’t given myself permission to go for it.

That’s why I share this story: even when the world crumbles, follow what drives you. Don’t focus on the outcome (learning to let that go could be a whole separate post). Has the last year been easy? Heck no. But sometimes you just have to choose your hard.

There is so much outside of our control. Circumstances will never be ideal or perfect… so my question to you, when you think about your own goals: if not now, then when?

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So many of my stories and novels have belonged to me and me alone for so long. Sure, I’ve shared my creative writing with trusted writing partners over the years… but notice the key word in there? Trusted.

When my debut novel is officially released in the spring of 2027, it will be available to anyone who wants to read it. I can’t control their reactions, their reviews, any of that. And for someone like me – someone who has made herself and her dreams feel ‘small’ for far too long – that’s really hard.

What if no one likes what I wrote? (Or worse, what if no one cares enough to read it?)

What if they don’t understand what I was trying to share?

What if I get bad reviews?

News flash, Liz… you won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. And that is okay.

I recently took a fabulous “visibility immersion” workshop with business coach and strategist Jenni Gritters, and the work she had us do was deep. We learned about why we keep ourselves small in our work and the personal blocks we have around being visible online. She rounded out the session with helping us build a marketing strategy that resonated with us.

The session was eye opening, and I dug deep into how my people pleasing over the years has impacted my writing and the choices I’ve made in sharing (or not) my creative writing.

For one exercise, I reflected on a moment when I was told I was not allowed to be who I was, where my unique power/expression was not allowed. The first thing that popped up for me: when my first-ever short story was published by the middle school newspaper. I should have been joyous, right? Except a teacher pulled me aside to ask me if I was “okay,” because the story I wrote about ghosts was so dark, particularly for a kid my age.

Looking back, I know that teacher was just looking out for me… but what did my young 12-year-old self hear and feel?

That I was too much.

That I shouldn’t be writing (and sharing) things like that.

That there was something “wrong” with me.

But all I wanted (and needed) at the time was to be told she liked my story and that I was a “good writer.” I wanted to be celebrated… instead, I felt chastised for not just writing a dark story but sharing it, too.

We all carry moments like this with us. Stories about who we should be and how we should act and how we should show up in any given moment. And they can make us feel like we’re not good enough… We want to be seen, but we also want to be accepted and celebrated.

That’s people pleasing for you, folks. And I’m recognizing how it’s held me back far too many times in my life.

Yes, I want people to read my stories. But I need to release the outcome. There will be people who don’t like what I wrote (because that’s life), and I’m working on being okay with that. They will not define what I can and cannot say or share.

Because I will find my readers—the people who want to read and hear my stories. And that’s one, of many reasons, that I’m determined to keep going and sharing my writing.

People pleasing no longer determines what I can do, say, or share.

The writing process is full of ups and downs. It’s messy. It’s imperfect… and heck no, I won’t be sharing all my writing, because not all of it is meant to be shared. But when I am ready to share, I will do it loudly and proudly so it finds the people it needs to.

Who’s with me?

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This weekend, I started digging up the weeds. The work was long and tiresome. Despite the brisk spring air cooling my forehead, I broke into a sweat as the time passed. After filling my second ‘yard waste’ bag and not seeing much progress, I was tempted to give up. You couldn’t even tell I’d done anything if you looked at the whole yard.

Then I remembered why I was doing this: with summer fast approaching, I want my garden beds to be full of ripe, luscious tomatoes; sugar peas that my kids devour before they even make it back to the house; and raspberry bushes that overflow with sweetness.

But I can’t have those things unless I’m willing to do the weeding, prepping the yard for planting, and making room for the seeds and plants from a nearby farm.

Our writing is much the same way. Our first drafts are messy. They’re supposed to be. They’re the place we throw our ideas down and tinker with the best ways to tell our stories. But I’ve never seen a first draft that was ever final.

How to turn off your inner editor

Similar to gardens, our early drafts can be full of weeds, unnecessary words, and things that just… don’t belong. This is the editing phase. Fix the structure. Clean up the words. Create space to shape our stories.

Also, just like our gardens, the more attention we give our writing, the more we can foster the beauty we’re seeking.

Have I taken this metaphor too far yet? I hope not, because I have one last thought…

You can plan your garden all you want, and you can water and tend the seeds, but you don’t fully control what will sprout and what will thrive. After all, those pesky squirrels love to steal our large tomatoes, no matter what we use to protect our gardens. But sometimes, our gardening will surprise us… I know I was surprised when I found that not one, but eight new willow trees had sprouted from the willow tree we lost late last year.

Unexpected but beautiful… just like our writing.

Make a plan to show up to the page, and you might be surprised by what you find.

Want help crafting a writing routine that works for you? Join my May 20th writing workshop focused on crafting a sustainable writing practice that works with your busy life.

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The voice of the inner editor. The voice of doubt. Of critique. And sometimes insecurity.

I do think our ‘inner editors’ have their time and place, at least to some extent. We need that editor hat on after all, at least once we’re ready to revise and rewrite our stories. But the inner editor—at least in my experience and that of my students—tends to butt in far too early in the writing process than necessary.

Learning to turn off that inner editor is critical to making progress with our idea… but how can we tell that voice inside our heads to take a hike? How can we ensure that ‘critic’ stops cramping our creativity and writing progress?

Here’s what I’ve learned about the inner editor from working with students and other authors for decades.

Be aware of your inner editor

What is your inner editor saying to you? Is that voice in your head trying to edit your words as you write? Is it telling you that your writing sucks?

To start, become aware of precisely what your inner editor is telling you. Write it down… then tear it up, burn it, get rid of it any way possible. Now, reframe and turn it into something more positive; for instance, if it’s telling you a scene is terrible, reframe it to something like this: “This scene isn’t quite working; I’ll make a note but return to it when I finish this chapter.” That way, you’re telling your inner editor to back off, at least for now.

Give yourself permission to free write

Writing is like a muscle, and the more we do it, the easier it is to do… and to turn off the inner editor. Set a timer and start writing whatever is in your head. Write in fragments, skip over words, make mistakes, and leave them be. If you’re really and truly stuck, it’s okay to write things like, “I don’t know what I want to write.” This is just an exercise in giving yourself permission to show up to the page and play. It’s also an exercise in exploring your stories and words with zero pressure—aka there is zero need for an editor when we’re just playing!

Start journaling

A journal is a place for us to explore our writing and ideas in a low-pressure way. It’s not a draft. It’s not a finished product. It’s simply a place to store your words and document your ideas and words. As someone who has journaled for decades, my journals are messy. Fragments. Bits and pieces of ideas. The practice of keeping a daily journal has become the number one way I’ve been able to keep my inner editor in check.

Write a draft zero

I’ve started calling my “first drafts,” a “draft zero” instead, and that simple turn of phrase once again helps me keep my inner editor in its place. A draft zero is me dumping my story out. I’m not editing. I’m in word count mode (two very different things). I write, and write, and write… and I tell myself that I’ll edit, shape, revise, and rewrite later. For me, it’s much, much easier to work with a story once it’s on the page.

Don’t forget that writing is a process

Take it from me, someone who has worked in writing and editing for the last twenty years, a first draft is never the final draft (even if you want it to be). It’s simply a place to start from. But we can’t edit what’s not on the page. You will go through multiple drafts. You will write, rewrite, and revise—because that’s how we make our stories shine. Then, when you think it’s done, you’ll turn it over to an editor or publisher, and they’ll edit it some more. I think when we keep this in mind, it eases the burden of the inner editor. Our personal editor has its time and place… and it’s definitely not during the first-draft phase!

The act of writing relies so much on our mindset and how we feel about and during the writing process. Quieting that inner editor is just one part of the game.

Want to create a sustainable writing routine that fits your life and your needs? Join my writing workshop on May 20th!

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It was a labor of love in every way, and not just because it was inspired by my daughter and our family dog. I also created it with my youngest sister. Our collaboration felt like a true creative partnership as we bounced ideas around and brought the story to life in just the way I imagined it in my head.

I love the illustrations. I love the story. I love how my kids (still!) laugh when we read it together.

But I never gave the book the marketing and publicity it deserved. After working on it for years, I shared a post or two before the launch. I shared it widely on the release date… and then, I pretty much stopped.

I only blame myself, because I realize it speaks to a larger issue I’ve been working to overcome: I’m uncomfortable with visibility.

Wait a second, Liz. Don’t you write for a living? Don’t you have hundreds of articles? Don’t you have a blog about your life? Don’t you regularly post to social media?

Yes, yes, yes, and yes. But multiple things can be true at once, and if I’m being completely honest (and vulnerable here), I don’t post and share about my creative projects nearly as much as the marketing gurus say you should. After all, people need to have about 28 touchpoints before they make a purchase (up from 7 just a decade or so ago).

As I gear up to start sharing about my young adult historical fantasy, which releases in a year with Apprentice House Press, I know I need to work on this. I want a career as an author (not just as an editor and ghostwriter for my freelance clients). My steady ghostwriting work made me a bit… shall we say, complacent? Since that work is covered by NDA, I can’t really talk about it with much depth. But when it comes to my own writing—my stories in my own words—I need to share more.

Marketing in our over-saturated world takes patience and persistence… and that means sharing about your books/publications through all sorts of avenues. It means crafting a marketing strategy and plan that includes appearing on podcasts, writing guest blog posts, and oh so much more.

But it all starts with your mindset. If I’m not willing to be visible and “seen,” then any marketing plan I have will not work. I need to be loud and proud of my work. I have the latter pinned down, but I’m working on my “loudness.”

Mindset is important in both writing, publishing, and marketing. It feels like I’m constantly granting myself permission… to show up to the page, to write, to share it with critique partners and writers… and last but certainly not least, to hit publish and share it with the world.

Thankfully, I’m learning, not just about publishing and marketing but myself, too. And while I’m still trying to figure out the “root” of my fear of being visible with my creative work, I’m pushing myself to share more in the meantime. After all, just like writing, it’s a process.

How do you feel about marketing yourself and your stories? What mindset ‘hiccups’ have you had with your writing life? I’d love to hear from you about your own ‘aha’ moments related to the writing and publishing life.

Oh, and one more thing… if the kids in your life love their pets, they’ll adore Etta Betta and the Beast, which is available from a variety of online retailers.

But I have a problem with slowing down and taking a break. My family knows this. I know this. And yet… I realize that taking a break and resting is important, too.

And so, despite feeling like I had millions of things up in the air, I signed off from work for one full week—something I haven’t done in ages. To be honest, in a way, I didn’t have a choice… my entire side of the family was gathering in California to spend time together, first in Los Angeles and Universal, then in Carlsbad to visit Legoland. Theme parks, by their very nature, keep you busy. But it’s a different kind of busy, isn’t it?

We walked thousands upon thousands of steps each day, rather than me sitting typing away at a keyboard all day long. We had long, leisurely lunches and dinners. We hung out waiting in lengthy lines, playing games, talking, and working on Mad Libs together. It might not have been the most restful vacation, but it was a vacation, and it filled my cup in more ways than one (and, yes, the pool at both locations helped).

I barely checked my email. I rarely looked at social media (other than the occasional Insta post). I journaled, but I took a break from my writing group and writing sprints. But most importantly, I refused to work the entire week, even when multiple clients contacted me for urgent projects.

The result?

I felt like I lived in a bit of a bubble for one week. Time felt like it stopped, as if the outside world and work didn’t exist, if only for just a bit. As I wrote in my journal, “When we go out of town, and I’m in a new place, and I don’t have to worry about ‘what’s next’ on the calendar or schedule, I immerse myself. I find myself purely in the moment.”

And that can be hard to do unless we truly give ourselves permission to take a break.

Rest is rejuvenating.

Rest refills us.

Rest is important.

It doesn’t need to be some big, crazy family adventure like my family had over spring break (in fact, I’m already dreaming of our lazy, relaxing Michigan trip this summer). Heck, it doesn’t even require a vacation or leaving the house.

But it does require you giving yourself permission to slow down, shut down the computer and phone, and just be.

Now, I’m back, my calendar still full. But I feel more relaxed, more at ease, and heck, even more creative. Because, like I said, I did journal while I was gone, and my ideas are overflowing… but I can manage it, because I took a break.

Do you prioritize rest (or would you like to)? How do you make sure you ‘shut down’ and turn off the noise every once in a while?

Stay tuned; after this week, I’ll be diving deep into my writing process for developing Becoming Charlotte Corday, which was inspired by real-life historical events and people! Questions? Ask away!

Along the same lines, an old friend recently told me about how thinking theoretically is part of his process but not a “safe one.”

At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. Isn’t thinking about existential ideas, for example, how we can foster growth and find meaning? And if we write about these ideas, can’t we help others with them too?

But I was missing a key point: Ideas and theories can be too vague and, I daresay, surface-level. They help us think broadly about the world and the world around us, but they can act as a wall to true connection. People don’t connect to ideas… they connect to people. To the details of our lives. To moments in time that they might see reflected in their own lives.

Take this as an example. I could write, “My people pleasing made it seem like I was a shy kid.” But what if I drew from my personal experience and shared this instead?

“My desire to stay hidden only grew worse… in fifth grade, if a teacher paid any attention to me outside class, not only would my face turn a bright red, but I’d go into a coughing fit. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was uncomfortable, but I didn’t know how to say it without offending someone, and people, I learned, would leave you alone if you were coughing. My people-pleasing tendencies fed into my introversion, until I faded into the background.”

The first version is just… ok. But the second version? It’s a whole lot more vulnerable, but it gives the reader a direct insight into who I was and how I interacted with the world around me. And, over time, I realized this impacted my writing. I remember, on more than one occasion, being told to dig deeper with the details of my stories… and I didn’t understand. Wasn’t I writing about how I was feeling? Wasn’t I showing (not telling) what was happening in my life?

No, I was skating on the surface level. I was blocking myself creatively by focusing on ideas rather than situations, conflict, and people… and avoiding discomfort. I couldn’t tell my stories in the way I truly wanted to, because I wasn’t getting specific and concrete enough.

Take my forthcoming book from Apprentice House Press as an example. Becoming Charlotte Corday started with a person. I read one single line that sparked a thought: Who the heck is Charlotte Corday? I started learning about the famous assassin (famous in the sense she is known for one single act), and the story grew from there.

While the book definitely touches on ‘big ideas’ and theories—like whether destiny is real and how much free will really exists, alongside family secrets and what leads to revolution—the core of the story is why Charlotte decided to kill Marat, and how a distant relative of Corday’s goes searching for answers to who she is by looking to the past.

Another example of this: you can write about the cost of war and how terrible it is, but that’s speaking pretty broadly, too. Or, you can write about the single toy train car sitting in the rubble. What’s more impactful? What pulls at your heartstrings? What makes you feel?

Ideas are important… but they won’t resonate with readers unless the story is grounded in the real, the everyday, the specific moments in time that influence the decisions we make and how we interact with the world.

So, my challenge to you is this: dig deep. Get specific. Show the details of your world or the world you’re creating. And, I promise you, your writing will become even more powerful.

Rather, I encourage you to foster a writing practice that works for you. One of my writing partners aims to do just three words a day (spoiler alert: she almost always writes a lot more than that), because it takes the pressure off on days that she’s exhausted.

So, what process works for you? I think that’s highly dependent on where you’re at in life, and what else you’re juggling. Time is a finite resource, and while I think it’s important to carve out time for things that bring us joy (including writing), we don’t need added pressure that makes us feel guilty when we don’t make it to the page.

How my writing time has evolved

My approach to writing has changed a ton over the decades based on what was going on in my life. Up until I was eighteen, I wrote nearly every day. As you might guess, this became pretty unsustainable over the years. After graduating college, and writing a ton of short stories and papers since I was an English major, I went through spurts… sometimes spending whole days or nights writing, and then stepping away from the page for weeks. But the biggest change happened when I had kids.

After I became a mom in 2014, I stopped journaling and writing for my longest stretch ever… something that’s still hard to admit. Looking back, I realize that it was just that “season” of life. I struggled with the fact that my time was no longer fully my own, that I couldn’t immerse myself in worlds of my own making for hours upon hours. I had to adjust—train myself, if you will—to write in short blocks of time.

But now, I see it as a reminder: we need to work with the time we have, and respect the rhythm of our current stage of life. Want to create a sustainable writing process that works for you? Here are some ideas to get you started:

Start a Journal

A journal is your permission to play and explore. Don’t show your notebook to anyone. Open it when inspiration strikes, or simply when you want to document something from your days. A journal isn’t a ‘draft’ of a story; rather, it’s a way to get into the habit of showing up to the page.

Create a Writing Ritual

A ritual doesn’t have to be anything big. It’s just a signal to the brain that, hey, it’s time to start putting words down on a page. Put on a favorite song. Do some stretching. For me, I make a cup of tea and grab a Skinny Dipped dark chocolate peanut butter cup (maybe not the healthiest of rituals, but it currently works for me).

Schedule a writing time that works for you

Look at your week ahead. When all the appointments and commitments are on your calendar, when do you have availability to sit down and write? When do you feel the most motivated to work on your creative writing? As a night owl, I write most nights. There’s no way I could wake early before my kids, like so many people encourage, because I am not a morning person.

In other words, pick a time that works for your rhythm. Treating your writing time as protected time helps you honor this time and space for cultivating your writing habit, too.

Set a timer

What can you accomplish if you only have 10 minutes of time? Challenge yourself to write as much as you can in just a short burst of time. You might surprise yourself with what you get done. Want more accountability? Join a writing group that does online writing sprints, like Moms Who Write, and join others as they write for 15-20 minutes at a time.

Start morning pages

If you haven’t already noticed from my Substack posts, I’m a huge fan of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way and her approach to reclaiming your creativity. Aim for three ‘morning journal pages’ as early as you can in the morning. Free write. Let whatever is in your head spill out onto the page… and if you follow Cameron’s advice, tear them up afterward or burn them. It’s not about what you’re producing. Rather, it’s about getting out of your head and giving yourself permission to write.

Track your progress

Writing progress can seem slow, but every time you show up and add some words, you’re making an effort… and slowly but surely, those words add up. Keep track of your word count. Use tools like TrackBear (which also gameifies your writing habit). Use a spreadsheet. For me, I use my bullet journal and simply put a check mark for each day I write.

Spark your creativity with writing prompts

Not sure where to start? Sometimes something as simple as a writing prompt can help get the creative juices flowing. Follow me on Instagram and Bluesky for writing prompts, or, if you’re a mom, nab my 28-day creative spark digital download.

Get some accountability

Self-imposed deadlines rarely work for me. It’s why I submit to writing contests and literary magazines. It’s also why I love having an accountability partner: every Monday, we share our writing goals; Friday, we check in to see how we’ve done. It’s easy and simple but so effective at keeping me on track. I also run a free Creative Writing Accountability club, where I co-write with fellow writers, giving each other updates at the beginning and end of the session. (Want in? Comment below!)

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Writing isn’t always about words on the page

This one might seem odd, but I truly believe that some of my best “writing work” doesn’t happen when I’m writing. Whether I’m taking a walk or prepping dinner, I think about my stories, the cause and effect happening in scenes, how my character would make the decisions they do… and as soon as I feasibly can, I write what I’ve been thinking down or make a note on my phone.

We all have rhythms, and the goal is to understand what those rhythms are so that you can create a writing process that works for you, whether that means writing every day or not.

Which of the above do you implement already? What do you plan on trying to create a sustainable writing practice that fits your life? Want to talk about your own creative process? I’d love to chat!

I’m not going to go into all the twists and turns that happened over the course of my writing and publishing journey. That would make for one very long post (or novel, as it might be), and I have an old condensed recap of that on Oops & Daisies. And to be honest, I feel like it’s not a lot different from many aspiring authors. I wrote and wrote some more. I tested the waters, sending out stories and manuscripts to magazines, literary agents, and publishers… and then I received a whole lot of no’s.

Not going to lie. The no’s stung. When I was younger, in particular, it slowed me down. It made me question if I was “good enough” to get past the gatekeepers. But still I kept trying.

Somewhere along the way, but quite intentionally, I released the outcome of my writing. I realized that I LOVE everything about the writing process:

Finding ideas.

Asking myself what if.

Transforming ideas into people and situations

Creating whole new worlds that previously only existed in my head

Conveying a moment in time with just the right words

Of course, I kept putting my writing out into the world… and I kept getting no’s, with the occasional yes from magazines and clients.

But with every rejection, I sent my work out into the world again, and reminded myself:

Keep going. You love writing. At the end of the day, that’s what matters.

I queried different versions of my YA historical fantasy centered around the life of Charlotte Corday twice in my life… once shortly after I graduated with a master’s from The University of Chicago, and again starting last year (after completely redoing the entire story).

The first time, I got a few nibbles, including a request for a full manuscript. But I knew, deep down, the story wasn’t ready yet.

The second time, I knew I had a story I loved and decided I wasn’t going to stop until I ran out of options… a few agents read more but ultimately passed. After 25 ‘no’s (yes, I tracked them), I started submitting to small presses.

And then the magical email, the one I feel like I’ve been waiting forever, came in.

“We’d like to publish Becoming Charlotte Corday. Is it still available?”

I might have re-read that email about ten times before I shared it with my husband. Was I reading it correctly? Did they just say they want to… publish my book?

Yes, yes, they do. Apprentice House Press received nearly 300 manuscripts in their last submission round and chose no more than 20 to publish.

Cue the shock, the tears, and the excitement all rolled into one.

To be honest, it still doesn’t feel real.

You might be wondering, but wait, Liz, didn’t you publish already? Yes, I have. Countless times. I have creative nonfiction in Chicken Soup for the Soul books, hundreds of articles in print and online publications, and in 2024, my sister and I self-published a picture book. I’m proud of it all (but especially Etta Betta and the Beast, which was a labor of love).

But this is my novel… the story that has lived in my head for decades.

Plus, I won’t lie or sugarcoat it. The book contract feels like validation. That a whole room of people read my book and decided yes, this is going to be among the books we publish in 2027, feels surreal to me. To be honest, I think it’ll feel that way until I’m actually holding the book in my hands.

I have a lot more to say about the creation of this book—from the research into the French Revolution and Charlotte Corday’s life, why I decided to make it a time travel story, and the whole darn tooting writing, rewriting, and editing process—but I’ll save that for another day. (What do you want to know about the process? Let me know, and it may influence a future post or video!)

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Rather, let’s end on this note:

Please don’t ever ever give up. (The seed of this book started as an idea in a journal entry from 2005!)

The journey to publication may be full of twists and turns, but embrace the process.

Keep reminding yourself of why you write, and don’t ever stop.

And last but not least… release the outcome and enjoy the ride.

I can’t wait to share more with you about how my YA historical fantasy, Becoming Charlotte Corday, came to be. Stay tuned!

And as my observations tend to do, it got me thinking.

There is no rushing in gymnastics. You need to build a strong foundation and core set of skills before you move on… and the same exact thing can be said about writing and publishing.

I totally get it. We have these big, huge dreams in our heads. We can’t wait for the day that we either hit publish ourselves or someone tells us, ‘hey, I really like this, can I share it with my readers?’ Or the moment we get a phone call or an email with a publisher saying, “We would love to publish this.” Sometimes it feels like it’s taking forever to get there. (Trust me, I know. I’ve been writing and dreaming of publishing since I was eight years old).

But before we get to that dreamy moment, we have work to do.

We need a solid foundation of skills

Just like in gymnastics, writers need to have a solid foundation from which to write. While I’m all about breaking form and structure, understanding storytelling basics is critical. Learning how to tell a story that not only captures attention but also holds our readers’ attention requires cultivation… and I believe this to be true even if you’re a natural storyteller.

Developing a story takes time and dedication

While there are beautiful moments, a la Big Magic, where I feel like the words flow, I long ago learned that we can’t wait for inspiration. Showing up to the page is where the real magic happens. But even when you show up? More often than not, I only write about 300-500 words a day on my book (because girl needs to work and pay her bills). When you consider my books/works-in-progress are about 90,000 words long, that’s a LOT of days in drafting mode. But rather than deter me, I remind myself of this fact to keep moving forward. Because every single word is one more word closer to “the end.”

Overcoming our mental blocks and fear

To be honest, I wish I could remove this from the list of “why progress is slow.” I have doubted myself, countless times, over the decades, and I know I’m far from alone in feeling this way. Is my writing good enough? Will anyone read what I wrote? Will anyone care?

I’ve done a ton of mindset and personal development work over the years, and what I’ve learned is this: I want to be done holding myself back. There are so many things outside of my control that affect my writing and publishing, but my mindset? That’s something I can control and work on.

Comparison is the thief of joy

While this is a mental block too, it deserves a special mention. Not gonna lie. Especially when I was younger and just out of college, there were times I was jealous of other writers and their lengthy list of publishing credits. I dared to ask: why not me?

Strangely enough, it wasn’t until I was older and, daresay, more mature, that I realized jealousy helps no one. Rather, these published authors are an inspiration. So, what if we celebrate our fellow authors and flip the script around? They’ve done it. I can do it, too. I just have to keep going.

Editing and feedback are crucial to the process

It’s so so so tempting (sometimes) to be like, hey, I finished this single draft, so I’m done! But if you want your story to be the best it can be, you’re not done. My stories always become a million times better after I receive constructive feedback from trusted writing partners. They help me make sure the story I want to tell is the one that’s showing up on the page. They ask questions that make me think and encourage my creativity.

Yes, yes, I know it adds time to the whole process, but if our goal is to put out our best work possible, another set of eyes (or two or three) will help us make our stories shine.

But also know when to put the pen down

Editing is clearly critical. There’s nothing worse than a reader hung up on a misspelling or a misplaced comma and getting distracted from our story. But we can also worry about the book not being “100% perfect.” How do we overcome this perfectionist tendency, which only serves to hold us back?

I heard a fabulous quote at an event by Sue Campbell, a writing coach: “But is it beautiful?” If it can be beautiful just the way it is, you can give yourself permission to be done. You can put that pen down and start sharing. At the same event, someone advised: Don’t aim for 100% done. Aim for 80%. Because if you aim for 100%, you’ll never stop tinkering.

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Celebrate the process

Writing anything, but especially a novel, takes time. There are zero ways around it. There might be days when you’ll never feel done – I still remember lamenting to my friends when my kids were younger that I felt like I was never going to finish my Charlotte Corday novel – but, if you keep showing up, keep making progress, one day, my dear writing friend, you will get there.

In the meantime, let’s do whatever we can to enjoy the process. There is so much beauty in the process of playing with words, finding the heart of the story, and bringing the image that lives in our heads to life.

So, let’s keep moving forward, together… one word at a time.

How do you “lean in” to the joy of writing? I’d love to hear from you!

After that first writing workshop, I was hooked. Every time I moved, I sought out a new writing community, a place where I could exchange work with others. But it never got easier when I showed up to a new group of people and wondered what kind of feedback I’d receive. Trust me. I saw the extraordinary value in getting someone else’s feedback—often a part of my story that was abundantly clear in my head somehow hadn’t translated to the page. But until I got to know the people in the group, I never knew what kind of criticism I’d get… the good kind or the bad kind. Or the constructive kind, which is my favorite.

Sometimes, criticism can feel downright cruel (even if that wasn’t the person’s intention). The work we put out into the world can feel vulnerable, and when someone dismisses it with a “this doesn’t work,” or even a simple, “I didn’t like it,” it can feel like a punch to the gut. That’s when writing workshops don’t work for me. Because, yes, you are entitled to your opinion, but I want to know why it doesn’t work.

On the flip side, I don’t want complete and utter praise. If I’m bringing my piece to workshops, it’s because I want feedback. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll never forget the day that I brought an article I wrote into a University of Chicago class on journalism, and when the teacher asked people to share their ‘criticisms,’ there was a beat of silence… and the silence extended until the professor had to pipe in and say that the piece was really good, but maybe I should flip the order of events slightly in the piece, and that was it. (And let me abundantly clear, this was the first and only time I didn’t really receive feedback from a class. If only all my stories were as powerful as that one article!)

Hands down, the most valuable kind of criticism, in my mind, is constructive criticism. It’s the perfect balance of sharing what works with what doesn’t. It recognizes that we all come from different lived experiences when we provide critique/feedback, and what works for one person might not work for another. It respects an individual’s feelings but also gives them something to work with, and that’s the key.

How To Give Constructive Criticism

There are three C’s to constructive criticism:

1. Concrete - Be precise when you give feedback. When I’m editing and/or providing criticism, I’ll often highlight a section and offer specific recommendations on something that the writer can act on.

   1. Example: For a novel I’m providing feedback on, I highlighted the phrase “cross fingers” and commented, “When I read, ‘cross fingers,’ I think of a pinky swear or something like that. Perhaps rephrase and use something along the lines of ‘intertwines.’”

2. Constructive - Focus on actions and ideas for what the author can do.

   1. Example: Instead of “She got mad,” show me what this looks like. How does the character’s body react in this moment? What is she thinking? I’d love to be able to visualize this more.

3. Caring - Recognize that this story is important to the person who wrote it. Talk to them with kindness and respect when providing feedback.

   1. Example: Rather than say, “This character makes zero sense,” reframe the feedback to showcase that it’s your opinion: “I feel like I didn’t really understand the character’s motivations here.”

Additionally, think of constructive criticism as a compliment sandwich:

1. Share something you like about the piece, whether it be a turn of phrase or the overall theme.

2. Provide your feedback starting with an “I feel” statement. (See the ‘caring’ example above).

3. Share one more thing you appreciate, give thanks, or offer support. No matter what, end on a positive note!

And that’s the beauty of constructive criticism. It recognizes there’s a human behind this writing. The feedback doesn’t tear the author down. Rather, it lifts them up and points us in the direction we might want to go. It’s why I love working on anthologies with The Writing Journey (like our latest, The Awakening). We go through three rounds of constructive feedback before we finalize our pieces, and every single critique I get is invaluable, in large part because the Journey editors emphasize the importance of constructive criticism.

It is so critical to find a writing partner who you get along with, one that can give feedback/criticism in a constructive and productive way… The world of writing and publishing is full of rejection. The last thing we need is to kill our writing practice by doubting ourselves (self-doubt kills more creative dreams than anything else). So, choose your writing groups and critique partners wisely. And I’d even venture a step further and say, choose your editors wisely, too.

All that to say, don’t take all the constructive criticism you get either. Because at the end of the day, it’s just one person’s opinion, and sometimes you need to stand firm with the way you told a story. But that’s a whole other post for another day.

Have you taken part in a writing workshop before? What kind of criticism do you value and/or find the most helpful?

If you read this far and you enjoyed my writing, please consider restacking it! I appreciate the support!

I planned to take the day off. I planned to give my mind a break from writing and thinking about my writing. I planned to not even think about my book. But then I stepped into the Art Institute and something beautiful happened (besides spending some much-needed, wonderful, quality time with my mom).

Ideas sparked.

Okay, okay, let me stop here and share something. Art plays a huge role in my current work-in-progress, a New Adult contemporary about a recent college graduate who doesn’t know what she wants out of life. But I did not go to the Art Institute with the intention of coming up with ideas or more things to research and explore… except that’s exactly what happened.

Since my mom visits the Art Institute a lot, it took us some time to decide which of the many galleries we wanted to see. I didn’t want to visit ones she was super familiar with. She recommended that we visit a gallery with artwork from a time period of the book I was reading. With that in mind, we decided to head to the modern wing.

Modern art is… thought provoking. Unexpected. Sometimes controversial.

My mom and I wandered, occasionally listening to the audio tour through our phones. We talked about why some art makes it into a gallery, while other—often similar—work doesn’t. My answer: gatekeepers. Knowing the right people. Where an artist shares their work (and IF they share their work). Disagree? Thoughts? I’d love to hear.

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We wandered, as you do, from a very surreal eyeball made out of a tennis ball to paintings with thick, heavy colors whose subject was most definitely open to interpretation. I thought about my own artwork (I’ve been into neurographic and geometric abstraction lately). My main character, Bridget, floated through my mind more than once, and I wondered what her take would be on Kandinsky, whose art was influenced by music.

That’s when it hit me: how much other acts of self-expression impact others. My art affects my writing, and my writing impacts my art.

Creative cross-pollination, if you will. I wish I could take credit for this term, but as soon as I thought of it, I googled it and learned it’s a whole thing, like books have been written about it.

The basic idea behind it: take methods, tools, you name it, from one field and apply them to an “unrelated” field. The approach can spark inspiration and a whole lot of innovation.

It also reminded me: when you’re stuck on a challenge in your writing? Step away from your desk and try something new. Don’t just go for a walk, although I advocate for that too.

Test out a whole different way of creating.

Scribble or doodle in a notebook.

Break out the watercolors and play.

Grab a calligraphy pen and create neurographic art (I swear, it’s like meditation for me).

Tear up a magazine and create a collage.

The possibilities are endless.

As my mom and I wound our way through the galleries, I made notes to myself in my phone:

Thoughts I had about art… what would it be like to create a huge mural? Testing out abstract expressionism by using found objects? What happens when someone creates something with instinct versus with intention?

I also noted things/people I wanted to learn more about… morphological psychology, Claude Cahun, Gunther Gerzso.

In other words, I took a day off, and when I came home, I had even more ideas and things I wanted to explore. But I don’t feel overwhelmed. If anything, I’m invigorated, and now I can’t wait to plan my next ‘artist’s date.’

What do you think about creative cross-pollination? How does it show up in your life? And if it doesn’t, how can you foster it?

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When that happens, sometimes we feel like we have a choice: we can stay the same. Be the same person. Act the same way. But just adjust to the moment in time.

Or we can change completely.

The latter is exactly what motherhood did to me, and I was not prepared for it at all. Even now, nearly 12 years since becoming a mom, I still feel like I’m figuring out who I am, along with who I want to be.

Let’s rewind real quick. Because not all identity shifts are that abrupt.

Growing up, I was really anxious. Despite the fact that I loved performing and the stage (I was even in a traveling theater troupe for a few years), I often clammed up around other people. When attention was thrown my way, I didn’t just flush—I turned bright red. I even went through a whole year where I coughed for no reason other than I felt uncomfortable or anxious or I didn’t know what to say, or what to do, or how to act.

You get the idea.

The switch from anxiety-ridden kid to making live videos didn’t happen overnight. If you ask me when it happened, I don’t think I could quite tell you. It was one of those super slow, incremental changes that you don’t realize has happened until you’re fully on the other side of it.

That said, I started inching my way forward to the other side throughout high school and college. I realized a lesson that I try to tell my kids all the time: if you don’t say anything and speak up, then no one will know what you think or how you feel… and nothing will change.

But, despite having a supportive family and network of wonderful friends, I still held myself back in countless ways. I tapped myself down into boxes. I made decisions—like how to act—based on what people expected. I followed what I considered the norms. Sure, I broke some rules here and there (hello, college), but by and large, I floated through the background. In other words, I largely avoided being seen and speaking up.

And when you don’t speak up, you lose your voice. When you don’t speak up, you sometimes forget what’s important. You lean into people pleasing, rather than listening to yourself and your intuition. At least that’s how it was for me. (If you beg to disagree, I’d love to hear).

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Then, I became a mom.

It was as if this portal opened, and this small creature that utterly depended on me came into my life, and I changed. It was as if this little girl gave me permission to just be myself.

She didn’t care what I wore (at least back then; now she’s a pre-teen with opinions).

She didn’t care if my voice was out of tune when I sang.

She didn’t care if I acted silly or weird… in fact, she kind of liked it.

And I became her advocate, in more ways than one. That realization, more than anything, made me speak up more and in turn, be myself more. I still remember the first time I danced like a fool in a Trader Joe’s, all to keep her happy in the cart. It wasn’t until I got out to my car and packed away the groceries that I stopped to think… hey, I just acted like a fool, and I didn’t worry what other people thought.

It was incredibly liberating.

So, why am I writing about my identity shift (and how I still feel like I’m ‘finding myself’ and ‘my voice’? Because the concept of ‘identity’ intrigues me: about how we become who we are, how our environment shapes us, and what causes us to change (or stay the same). It’s a theme I find repeatedly in the stories I tinker with, and it’s something I muse about in my journals.

My Substack is not just about the writing life, nor is it just about creativity. It’s about how all these facets of our lives intersect and make us who we are. Because, as we know, nothing lives in isolation, because, hello, we all interact with people every day, even if it is across a screen.

I’ll be sharing a lot about my writing process in the coming weeks, and where ideas come from… and that includes ideas that I’m researching, circling, and intrigued by, because they’re all tied to my writing in some form or another. I hope you join me for this journey, and I’d love to learn more about you (and your identity!) in the comments below.

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Before I proceed, let me stop right here and make this 100% abundantly clear: I am not a therapist, nor am I trained in therapy. The opinions expressed here are my own and are based on my own lived experiences. From my point-of-view, journaling can be very therapeutic, but I encourage you to talk to a licensed therapist about how you can journal for mental health.

When I was a pre-teen and teenager, my journal became a dumping ground for all my venting, a place to share my deepest, darkest feelings. Not gonna lie. More often than I’d like to admit, the pages ended up tear-stained. Everything I struggled with found its way onto my pages, and, to an extent, it helped. After all, when I put my feelings onto the page, I felt a tad bit lighter…

But sometimes, I’d keep writing about the same experiences, asking myself again and again, why did this happen? Rather than speak to my friends about the things I was going through (let’s be honest, it was often boy-related), I put it in the journal. Rather than speak up about something that bothered me, I wrote it down. Rather than express my fears or my sadness or my anger, I wrote it down.

I didn’t speak a whole lot of it out loud. I kept it to myself… and sometimes I became hyper-focused on what was wrong, rather than what was going right.

Writing in a safe space like a journal can be therapeutic… but it can also stop you from moving on. It can lead to fixating on the negative and, in turn, spiraling. In my case, it often reinforced my negative thoughts, like the idea I wasn’t “good enough,” “likeable enough,” “pretty enough.” (You get that idea).

So, what’s the solution?

One: recognize that venting isn’t helping

At one point in my journal, I wrote: “I know it may seem like I’m always depressed or sad, but that’s only because I tend to write in here when I’m upset.” That self-awareness helped me realize I wanted my journals to be about more than the “crappy” stuff in life. I wanted to remember and celebrate the good stuff, too, the things I really wanted to remember down the road.

Two: consider how to move on

Rather than just dumping out all my feelings, I started to reflect.

What did this situation teach me?

What can I do so I don’t feel this way again?

Is this person in my life really worth it, if they make me feel a certain way?

By asking myself those kinds of questions, I didn’t just record my life, I processed it, which, in turn, helped me move forward.

Three: start writing down the things you feel gratitude for

To be honest, I didn’t start gratitude journaling until later in life, but I wish I had done earlier. After dumping/processing out the negative stuff, I write down the things I feel lucky to have, even if, some days, it was as simple as the sound of my kids’ laughter. By switching gears in what I wrote in my journal, I also switched gears in my brain.

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Four: reframe the negative thoughts

I also started flipping the script. When I told myself that I wasn’t a good enough writer, I asked myself: what evidence did I have for that?

During my senior year as an undergrad, I didn’t win a writing award that I had set my sights on. I was incredibly disappointed, and I took it to mean that I didn’t have what it took… but then a professor emailed me and expressed how much he thought I deserved it. It was a big reminder that not everyone’s opinions are the same… and to not let one moment in time define who you are or what you’re capable of. This is one reason, of many, that I try to reframe my negative thoughts when I can. It’s also why I’m a fan of affirmations.

Journaling can be incredibly powerful. But let’s make sure that it’s a good kind of power, one that enables us to move in the direction we want, rather than pull us down and keep us stuck.

How do you ensure your journal isn’t only a place where you vent? I’d love to hear your take on this!

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Want to discover what journaling method works best for you? (Because yes, there’s options). I’m hosting a free live video Q&A on February 25th.

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(For the opposite, and how journaling can be good for you, check out these benefits).

All that to say, I made a commitment to myself in 2025: to make progress in my creative writing, which meant:

1) finishing projects, and

2) sharing my stories with the world, starting with querying literary agents and submitting to lit magazines.

In 2025, I did a wide variety of things to push myself forward. Here are the things that worked the best for me:

1. Journal

Since early 2025, every single day, without fail, I put my pen to paper and journaled. I had to tinker with what worked best for me as a routine. Now, during the week, shortly after the kids are off to school, I journal for about 10 minutes, brain dumping my thoughts. On the weekends, I pour my tea and journal. Then, every night, before I go to bed and give myself “permission” to read, I journal again—and this is often when the magic happens, as ideas for stories start to blossom.

2. List of ideas and works-in-progress

I created a Google doc that lists all my works in progress. Why is this important? One, I need a single place to store these “seeds.” Two, it’s really nice motivation to see all the ideas I have, and if I want to move forward, I need to cross them off my list!

3. Share my work with critique partners

I adore my critique partners, both those I’ve met online and those in my neighborhood. They span the gamut of genres, so when my writing is ready for another set of eyes, I have someone to share it with. This has been invaluable to me. Early readers help me see my writing from a different lens and make sure the story I want to tell is what’s on the page.

4. Daily writing time is non-negotiable

This doesn’t work for everyone, but once I get into the habit of showing up to write at a certain time each day, it becomes easier to make progress. These days, I literally time-block my calendar, and even if it’s only for 15 minutes a day, I’m showing up to the page.

5. Created a writing ritual

A writing ritual is a signal to the brain that it’s time to get creative. For me, as soon as my morning tea is made, I know it’s time to write. Beth Kempton talks in depth about the importance of a writing ritual and how to create one that works for you and your life (The Way of the Fearless Writer just so happens to be one of my favorite writing books, too).

6. Tinker with Different Forms

Stories don’t have to be plotted before you begin. They don’t have to be linear. Writing can be messy. In 2025, I returned to poetry and quickly remembered how much I enjoy trying to capture a single moment in time in a short space. Sometimes I work on my novel. Other times, my short stories. And sometimes a brief poem. Working in different forms stretches the writing muscle in different ways, and that can be fun.

7. Started sharing my creative writing publicly

While I’ve worked as a freelance writer and editor for nearly 20 years, I often told other people’s stories rather than my own. But I could fill boxes with the stories and poems I’ve written over the years… and now I’m cleaning them up and submitting some of them. I’ve also started querying a young adult novel to literary agents. Because if I want to move forward with my goals? I need to start sharing.

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8. Accountability

This is a huge one for me: I need accountability and deadlines that aren’t self-imposed. I found accountability by joining a writing group with similar aspirations to mine. I exchange chapters and essays with them. Now, we also have a free Creative Writing Accountability Club, where we show up and basically “co-write” in silence. It’s enormously helpful. (And if you want an invite, send me a message).

9. But I also give myself grace.

The words don’t always flow. Some days, I’ll stare at the blinking cursor, add a comma, change a word… but then stop. And I remind myself that’s ok! I showed up. I tried, and sometimes that has to be enough. There’s no sense in giving myself grief. The writing process is supposed to be joyful after all. I aim for three words a day—advice given to me by a critique partner—and that’s enough permission for me to just show up and do what I can.

So, those are the nine things I do to move my writing forward. Choose what works for you. Make it your own. Which ones resonate the most with you?

Also, which one do you want to hear more about? I’ll be sharing more about my writing and editing process here at Where Daisies Grow, so if you have questions, ask away! In the meantime, happy writing.

A few (cough, cough) decades later, I have filled more than 40 journals/diaries, and the number grows with each passing day.

Keeping a “diary” isn’t only about documenting my day—although, it can be for that too. Rather, over the years, it’s been my place to explore… tinker with words… document things I want to remember… play with the seed of a story idea… capture images through words… and the list goes on and on.

I’ve been told, or given the side eye, more than once that journaling feels like a waste of time. Couldn’t I be doing something… more productive?

More creative?

More interesting?

More… important?

But sometimes we just need to breathe, to pause, to find a way to slow down. Plus, I’d argue that this process of slowing down and being with our thoughts is just as important, if not more so, than a lot of the things we fill our days with.

There can be a lot of beauty in slowing down.

I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a slower pace of life. A kinder life. A more gentle life.

Journaling is a safe space, one that we can reflect, think, and grow.

For me, it’s also become a place not for story endings, but beginnings.

As I thought about starting this Substack, I flipped through my journals. I discovered how often the stories I wrote—whether they were for creative nonfiction essays for Chicken Soup for the Soul, or fictional short stories I wrote for my undergrad or master’s degree—started as just an image or thought in my journal pages.

When I look back and think about how many stories have sprung from these pages, it honestly astounds me. That was never my intention when I started journaling at eight years old. (And I definitely didn’t ever think I would host/organize creative writing workshops focused on my journaling methods, which I started this year).

But having a journal or notebook or whatever you want to call it, to explore our thoughts, observations, and more can be liberating in more ways than one.

That’s what this Substack is: a place to think about creativity, the writing process, our stories, and how we choose what stories we want to share with the world.

Journaling can be messy and weird and thought-provoking.

But it’s also just the jumping off point; now, let’s get writing.

Do you journal? Why or why not? I’d love to hear from you!