We’ve all been there: inspiration strikes, but it’s at the absolute worst moment. Maybe you’re in the shower, driving, or lying in bed, just about to fall asleep. For me, it happened this week while grocery shopping. One minute, I was debating the merits of organic spinach versus regular, and the next, a fully-formed scene popped into my head.

Of course, I didn’t have a notebook handy, so I ended up awkwardly typing fragments into my phone’s notes app while avoiding a runaway cart. The result? A messy but promising idea that might just make it into my next book.

Capturing Ideas on the Go

Moments like this remind me that inspiration doesn’t wait for a convenient time. Over the years, I’ve found a few ways to make sure I don’t lose those sparks of creativity:

1. Always Have a Notebook: A small notebook in my bag has saved many ideas from slipping away. Bonus points if it has a pen loop, so I’m not digging through my purse for a pen.

2. Embrace Technology: When a notebook isn’t practical, my phone’s notes app is my best friend. Voice memos are great, too, especially when I’m driving.

3. Write in Code: Sometimes I just jot down keywords or phrases to jog my memory later. “Spinach aisle scene” was enough for me to flesh out the idea when I got home.

The Magic of Inconvenient Inspiration

As frustrating as it can be, there’s something magical about those unexpected bursts of creativity. They remind me that writing isn’t just a job or a skill—it’s part of how I see the world. Everything, even something as mundane as a grocery run, has the potential to spark a story.

How Do You Handle Sudden Inspiration?

Do you have a favorite method for capturing ideas on the go? Or have you ever had a moment where you lost an idea because you couldn’t write it down fast enough? I’d love to hear how you handle those inconvenient strikes of brilliance.

Inspiration might not always come when we’re ready, but it’s always worth chasing.

Let’s face it: life is a circus, and most days, we’re the clowns. We trip over our own feet, spill coffee on our laptops, and accidentally send texts to the wrong people. (No, Aunt Linda, I did not mean to tell you about my writing meltdown, but thanks for the supportive emojis.) The thing is, if you don’t laugh at yourself, who will? Actually, scratch that—everyone else will. You might as well beat them to it.

This week, I learned the hard way that self-deprecating humor is the glue holding my sanity together. Between a misplaced draft, an epic coffee spill, and my dog deciding my notes were a chew toy, I had two options: cry or laugh. Spoiler alert: I did both.

My Week of Chaos

Here are a few highlights from my week of unintentional comedy:

1. The Great Coffee Catastrophe: There I was, in the middle of what might have been my best paragraph yet, when my elbow betrayed me. Coffee everywhere. Keyboard soaked. Words lost. RIP to that sentence—I’m sure it was a masterpiece.

2. The Case of the Missing Draft: I spent two hours searching for a file I had cleverly titled “Untitled.docx.” Turns out, I had saved it in a folder labeled “Miscellaneous Stuff.” A true detective, I am not.

3. Dog vs. Notes: My dog, clearly unimpressed with my writing, shredded my printed scene. I think he was trying to send editorial feedback, but it mostly looked like a plea for more treats.

Why Laughing Matters

In moments like these, it’s easy to spiral. I could’ve declared the week a failure, binge-watched a show, and ignored my laptop entirely. Instead, I laughed—because honestly, what else can you do when your creative process feels like a sitcom?

Laughing at yourself doesn’t mean you’re not taking things seriously. It means you’re giving yourself permission to be human. It’s a reminder that perfection is overrated and that sometimes, the best stories come from the messes we make along the way.

Tips for Finding the Humor

If you’re in the middle of your own creative chaos, here’s how to find the funny:

1. Tell Someone: Sharing your mishaps with a friend or fellow writer can turn frustration into comedy. (Pro tip: Choose someone who knows how to laugh with you, not at you.)
2. Exaggerate for Effect: Pretend your coffee spill was the dramatic climax of your day. It’s amazing how melodrama can turn tragedy into hilarity.
3. Write It Down: Use your mistakes as inspiration. I guarantee there’s a character somewhere who could benefit from your bad week.

Your Turn to Share

What’s the funniest mistake you’ve made recently? Did you spill coffee, send an awkward email, or trip in front of a crowd? Share your story in the comments—I promise we’ll laugh with you, not at you. Probably.

Embrace the Comedy

Life isn’t perfect, and neither are we. But the imperfections are where the good stuff happens—the humor, the growth, and yes, even the stories. So, here’s to laughing at ourselves, spilling coffee, and surviving the chaos.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to buy my dog a new chew toy before he decides my notebook is next.

Tradition is a kind of anchor. It holds us steady, even when the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. It’s the familiar scent of cinnamon in the air on a cold winter morning, the worn pages of a recipe passed down through generations, or the ritual of lighting a single candle at dusk. Traditions ground us in the present while connecting us to the past, weaving together moments that might otherwise be lost.

This week, I found myself drawn to the comforting rhythm of one of my own traditions: baking my grandmother’s honey bread. It’s a simple recipe, nothing fancy, but it’s full of meaning. The act of mixing the dough, kneading it until it’s smooth, and waiting for it to rise feels like a quiet conversation with her—a way of keeping her close, even though she’s no longer here.

The Stories Behind Traditions

Every tradition carries a story. My grandmother’s honey bread isn’t just a recipe; it’s a memory of her standing at the kitchen counter, apron dusted with flour, humming a tune I never quite learned the words to. It’s the laughter of my cousins as we argued over who got the first slice, the sticky sweetness of honey drizzling over warm bread, the way the house seemed to hold its breath while the bread baked.

These moments aren’t just memories—they’re the foundation of the stories I write. They remind me that the smallest details can carry the deepest meaning. A simple loaf of bread can tell a tale of love, loss, and connection.

Tradition as Inspiration

Traditions often find their way into my writing. In one of my recent stories, a character preserves her family’s legacy through the act of weaving baskets—a skill passed down through generations. For her, it’s not just about the baskets; it’s about the time spent with her grandmother, the lessons learned, and the unspoken bond they share.

These traditions add depth to characters, grounding them in something real and relatable. They remind readers that stories don’t have to be grand to be meaningful—sometimes, they’re as simple as the way we fold a blanket or light a candle.

Honoring and Creating Traditions

Traditions don’t have to be old to matter. Some of my favorite traditions are ones I’ve created for myself—like the way I take a walk through the woods every Sunday morning, letting the quiet of nature settle my thoughts. Or the way I end every day by writing three things I’m grateful for in my journal, even on the hardest days.

These rituals remind me to pause, to reflect, and to find joy in the everyday. They’re small acts, but they carry great weight.

What Are Your Traditions?

What traditions bring you comfort? Are they ones passed down through your family, or have you created your own? I’d love to hear the stories behind them—the memories they hold, the lessons they’ve taught you, and the way they shape your days.

Carrying Traditions Forward

As I kneaded the dough for my grandmother’s honey bread this week, I thought about how traditions connect us, not just to the past, but to the future. One day, I hope to pass this recipe on, to watch someone else measure out the honey and flour, to hear their laughter as they wait for the bread to rise.

Traditions aren’t just acts—they’re threads, weaving us into the fabric of something larger. And as long as we carry them forward, the stories they hold will never be lost.

This week, I’ve been thinking about why we’re drawn to dark stories. Why do we seek out tales of haunted houses, cursed woods, and forbidden knowledge? Why do we linger in the shadows when it would be easier to turn away? The answer, I think, is that darkness gives us something light cannot: perspective.

What We Find in the Shadows

Dark stories aren’t about scaring us for the sake of it. They’re about confronting the unknown, testing our courage, and finding strength in vulnerability. They give us a safe place to explore danger, heartbreak, and loss without risking anything real—except perhaps a piece of our own understanding.

This week, I revisited one of my favorite myths: the Morrigan, the Celtic goddess of war and fate. She’s a figure of power and fear, a shapeshifter who appears as a crow, a maiden, or a hag, depending on her purpose. The Morrigan doesn’t offer comfort or safety. She forces those who encounter her to face their destiny, whether they’re ready or not.

It’s no coincidence that her stories resonate with me. The Morrigan reminds us that darkness isn’t just about endings—it’s about transformation. She challenges us to let go of what no longer serves and step into what we’re meant to become, no matter how terrifying it might be.

Embracing the Shadows

In writing, darkness isn’t just a tool—it’s a necessity. It allows us to create tension, depth, and truth. Without it, our stories would feel flat, as though they were missing the texture of real life. After all, how can we appreciate the light if we’ve never known the dark?

Here’s how I bring that balance into my work:

1. Conflict as Catalyst: Every character must face their own darkness—whether it’s fear, guilt, or regret. It’s not about making them suffer; it’s about showing how they grow.
2. Atmosphere Matters: Shadows, whispers, and silence can say more than dialogue ever could. I try to let the setting do some of the storytelling.
3. Truth in the Pain: Darkness isn’t just about horror—it’s about honesty. Sometimes, the scariest thing we can do is tell the truth, both to our characters and to ourselves.

What Darkness Speaks to You?

Think about the stories that have stayed with you long after you’ve closed the book or walked out of the theater. Were they filled with light, or were they shaped by shadow? What truths did they show you?

The darkness we crave isn’t about destruction—it’s about discovery. It’s where we go to find what’s hidden, what’s real, and what’s worth fighting for.

So let the shadows linger. They have so much to teach us.

If there’s one thing writers are always chasing, it’s the perfect routine. You know the one: where the words pour out effortlessly, deadlines are always met, and the coffee stays magically warm. Spoiler alert—it doesn’t exist. But that doesn’t mean finding a routine that works for you isn’t worth the effort.

I’ve spent years experimenting with my writing habits, tweaking everything from the time of day I write to where I sit and even what I eat beforehand. While I haven’t discovered a one-size-fits-all solution (because, let’s be honest, some days the muse just doesn’t show up), I have found a rhythm that keeps me productive more often than not.

What Works for Me

Here’s what my current writing routine looks like:

1. Morning Pages: I start the day with a quick, stream-of-consciousness journal entry. It’s not about plot or characters—it’s about clearing out mental clutter so I can focus.

2. Dedicated Writing Blocks: I carve out two-hour blocks in the late morning or early afternoon for focused writing. During this time, I turn off notifications and dive into whatever project needs the most attention.

3. Movement Breaks: After every 45 minutes of writing, I get up and stretch, take a quick walk, or even just move to a different room. It helps me reset and avoid burnout.

4. Creative Fuel: Snacks, tea, and a playlist tailored to the mood of my current project are non-negotiable. Music can make or break a scene for me, so I’m always updating my writing playlists.

The Beauty of Flexibility

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that routines are meant to serve you—not the other way around. Life happens, and some days I have to write in the middle of the night or sneak in a few paragraphs on my phone while waiting in line. That’s okay. The key is to keep showing up, even if it doesn’t look perfect.

What’s Your Routine?

Every writer (or creative) has their own quirks and habits. Do you write better in silence, or does background noise help you focus? Are you a morning person, or do you thrive after midnight? I’d love to hear about the routines—or experiments—that help you stay productive.

The perfect routine might be a myth, but finding what works for you? That’s the real magic.

Let’s be honest: procrastination is my toxic best friend. I know I should be writing, but suddenly, reorganizing my bookshelf by color feels urgent. Or maybe I’ll clean the fridge, scroll social media, or take a nap. Anything but face that blinking cursor on my screen.

This week, procrastination hit hard. My deadline loomed, my coffee cup was perpetually empty, and my brain insisted that now was the perfect time to learn how to make homemade pasta. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. But hey, the pasta turned out great.

Procrastination’s Greatest Hits

Let me walk you through the highlights of my week of avoidance:

1. The Great Closet Cleanout: Apparently, my creative energy decided to channel itself into folding T-shirts instead of crafting sentences. My closet looks amazing, but my draft? Not so much.
2. Overthinking the Playlist: Clearly, I couldn’t write without the perfect background music, which took an hour of scrolling and resulted in me singing along instead of working.
3. Baking Therapy: Three dozen cookies later, I had no words written, but I did have a sugar rush.

Why Procrastination Happens

Here’s the thing about procrastination—it’s rarely about laziness. For me, it’s usually fear disguised as distraction. Fear of not being good enough, of not meeting expectations, or of realizing that my idea is more “meh” than magical.

But procrastination isn’t all bad. Sometimes, stepping away from the page lets ideas simmer in the background. Sometimes, folding those T-shirts clears my head enough to solve a plot problem. The trick is knowing when to let procrastination run its course and when to shut it down.

Procrastination Busters

This week, I finally hit a point where the guilt of not writing outweighed the fear of writing badly. Here’s how I got back on track (feel free to steal these tips):

1. Set a Timer: Ten minutes. That’s all I promised myself. Turns out, starting is the hardest part.
2. Reward the Effort: Write 500 words, then you can binge one episode of your favorite show. (Yes, bribes work. Don’t judge me.)
3. Forgive the Fluff: Sometimes, you’ve got to write the bad stuff to get to the good stuff. The delete key exists for a reason.

Procrastination Confessions

I know I’m not the only one who’s fallen into the black hole of procrastination. What’s your go-to avoidance tactic? Cleaning? Snacking? Becoming a world-class expert on obscure trivia? Let me know in the comments so we can laugh about it together (and maybe brainstorm ways to outsmart it).

Progress Over Perfection

At the end of the day, procrastination doesn’t have to win. Even if you only write one sentence, clean your fridge, or brainstorm over a plate of cookies, you’re still moving forward. And honestly, isn’t that what counts?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a scene to write—or maybe a new playlist to overthink. Wish me luck. Again. And again. And probably again.

Creativity, much like life, moves in seasons. There are the bright, bustling summers when ideas bloom effortlessly, words pour onto the page, and every corner of your mind feels alive with possibility. Then there are the quiet winters, where everything feels still, perhaps even stagnant, but beneath the surface, things are stirring.

I’ve come to appreciate the rhythm of these seasons, even when they don’t match my own plans. There’s a certain peace in knowing that just because I’m not actively creating doesn’t mean I’m not growing. Sometimes, the most important work happens in the stillness.

Spring: Planting Seeds

Spring is the season of beginnings. For me, this often means brainstorming, journaling, and exploring new ideas. It’s a time of planting seeds, even if I’m not entirely sure what will grow.

One spring project that stays with me is the start of my novel about a small-town baker rediscovering her passion for life. It began with a single idea—a question, really: What if the thing you thought you’d lost forever was waiting for you in the last place you looked? That question planted a seed that blossomed into a story filled with warmth, love, and resilience.

Summer: Full Bloom

Summer is the season of action. It’s when I feel most energized, diving headfirst into writing, revising, and bringing my ideas to life. The words come fast and freely, and everything feels possible.

But even summer has its challenges. The energy of this season can be intoxicating, but it’s easy to overwork and burn out. I’ve learned to balance the excitement of creating with the need to pause, breathe, and enjoy the process.

Autumn: Harvesting the Work

Autumn is a season of reflection and refinement. It’s when I revisit my work with a critical eye, revising and shaping it into something stronger. It’s also a time to celebrate—whether that’s sharing a finished story with readers or simply acknowledging the progress I’ve made.

One of my favorite autumn rituals is rereading journal entries from earlier in the year. It’s fascinating to see how a small spark in the spring grew into something tangible by the fall. It’s a reminder that creativity is a process, and every step matters.

Winter: Rest and Renewal

Winter often feels like the hardest season for creativity, but I’ve come to see its value. It’s a time for rest, for gathering energy, and for dreaming quietly. I let myself read, bake, and spend time with loved ones. I embrace the stillness, trusting that it’s preparing me for the seasons to come.

What Season Are You In?

If creativity moves in seasons, where do you find yourself today? Are you planting seeds, harvesting your work, or resting in quiet renewal?

I’d love to hear how you navigate your own creative rhythms. Do you embrace the quiet seasons, or do you push through them? What rituals or habits help you stay grounded in your creativity?

The Beauty of Seasons

What I’ve learned is that no season lasts forever. If you’re in a creative winter, spring is just around the corner. And if you’re in full bloom, cherish the moment, knowing it’s part of a larger cycle.

The beauty of creativity is that it’s always in motion, always growing, even when we can’t see it. Just like the seasons, it’s a reminder that everything has its time, and every season has its purpose.

Stories have always been our way of making sense of the world. Long before we had science to explain the stars or the tides, we had folklore—whispers of gods, spirits, and creatures that lived alongside us in the shadows. These stories weren’t just entertainment; they were warnings, lessons, and maps for navigating a world we didn’t yet understand.

But folklore isn’t static. It evolves, reshaped by every voice that tells it. This week, I’ve been diving into one of my favorite myths, peeling back its layers and imagining how it might look in a different light. What if the villain wasn’t truly evil, but misunderstood? What if the hero’s victory came at a terrible cost? What if the ending wasn’t an ending at all?

The Story That Sparked It

One tale that has captured my imagination is the legend of the selkies—seal-like creatures who can shed their skins and walk as humans. Most versions of the story cast them as tragic figures, forced to live on land after their skins are stolen by humans. But as I revisited the myth, I couldn’t stop asking questions: What if the selkies weren’t victims, but powerful beings with their own agendas? What if the stolen skin was a trade, not a theft? And what might a selkie’s revenge truly look like?

These questions led me to start crafting my own version of the story, one where the boundaries between victim and villain blur, and the sea becomes a stage for justice as much as tragedy.

Breathing New Life into Old Tales

Reimagining folklore isn’t about discarding the original—it’s about honoring it by finding new angles, new emotions, and new truths within it. Here’s how I approach the process:

1. Start with the Core: What’s the heart of the story? Is it a warning? A lesson? A question? Understanding the original purpose helps shape the new version.

2. Flip the Perspective: Who is telling the story, and whose voice is missing? Sometimes, shifting the point of view unlocks an entirely new narrative.

3. Add Modern Relevance: Folklore reflects the fears and values of its time. What might those same themes look like today? For example, a selkie’s tale could become a metaphor for identity, autonomy, or environmental loss.

4. Let the Story Speak: Folklore has a way of guiding its own retelling. Pay attention to what feels natural, even if it veers from your original plan.

What Stories Speak to You?

Folklore belongs to all of us, shaped by the hands of every storyteller who passes it on. What myths, legends, or fables resonate with you? Which ones would you reimagine if you could?

The beauty of these stories lies in their adaptability. They grow with us, changing just enough to reflect who we are while keeping the bones of the past intact. And maybe, in reimagining them, we’re not just telling a story—we’re keeping it alive.

The selkies may be just one chapter in a long line of legends, but they remind us that every tale, no matter how old, has room for something new.

Some days, writing feels effortless. The words flow, the ideas connect, and you feel unstoppable. Then there are days when everything conspires to pull your focus—a noisy neighbor, endless notifications, or the siren call of a TV show you’ve been meaning to binge.

This week has been one of those weeks, where distractions felt like a constant companion. But rather than fight it, I decided to lean into the chaos and find ways to write through it.

Strategies That Worked

Here are a few tricks that helped me stay productive even when life got loud:

1. Micro Writing Sessions: Instead of forcing a long, focused block of time, I wrote in short bursts—ten minutes here, fifteen there. It added up faster than I expected.

2. Noise-Canceling Playlists: I put on instrumental music that matches the mood of my current project. My favorite lately? A playlist of ambient forest sounds with soft piano melodies.

3. Setting Mini Goals: Instead of aiming for a big word count, I set small, achievable goals like finishing one paragraph or editing a single page. Small wins (like we talked about last time!) are powerful.

Turning Distractions Into Inspiration

Sometimes, the best way to handle a distraction is to embrace it. For example, while writing this week, my dog decided she absolutely had to be part of the process, nudging me every few minutes for attention. Instead of getting frustrated, I used that energy to write a playful scene where a character is interrupted by an overly enthusiastic pet.

Distractions can be frustrating, but they can also offer unexpected inspiration if you’re open to it.

What Do You Do When Life Gets Loud?

I know I’m not the only one who deals with this. How do you keep writing—or working on any creative project—when the distractions pile up? I’d love to hear your strategies or stories in the comments.

Creativity doesn’t always come in a quiet, perfect bubble. Sometimes, it’s about finding your rhythm in the noise.

Let’s talk about the real MVP of writing: coffee. Without it, my creative process would resemble a sloth trying to compose a symphony—slow, confused, and probably napping halfway through. Coffee isn’t just a drink; it’s a lifeline, a muse, and sometimes, my only writing companion.

This week, fueled by more caffeine than is probably advisable, I had what I like to call a “creative breakdown.” You know the type—where you stare at your draft, wonder who let you think you could write, and contemplate running away to live off the grid with a herd of alpacas. Don’t worry, I didn’t actually do it (yet).

The Coffee Ritual

Every writer has their quirks, and mine starts with my morning coffee. The ritual is sacred: grind the beans, brew the coffee, and take that first life-giving sip. It’s the calm before the creative storm, the moment where I convince myself that today’s words will be brilliant.

This week, my coffee intake reached “writer under deadline” levels, but hey, it got the words flowing. Sort of.

Creative Breakdowns: A How-To Guide

When the coffee buzz wore off, I found myself knee-deep in one of those everything-I-write-is-garbage funks. Here’s how I handled it (feel free to steal my method):

1. Cry Dramatically: Optional, but cathartic. Bonus points if your dog looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.
2. Step Away: Sometimes, you just need to walk away from the screen before you throw your laptop out the window. A quick dance party in the kitchen works wonders.
3. Bribe Yourself: “If you write 500 words, you can watch an episode of your favorite show.” Yes, I bribe myself like a toddler. It works.

The Magic of Imperfection

Here’s the thing about creative breakdowns: they’re part of the process. You’re not failing; you’re creating. It’s messy, chaotic, and often caffeine-fueled, but that’s what makes it real. The magic isn’t in getting it perfect—it’s in showing up, doing the work, and letting yourself be human.

This week, I ended up with three half-decent paragraphs, one metaphor I’m weirdly proud of, and a subplot I didn’t see coming. Not bad for a creative disaster.

What Keeps You Going?

I know I’m not the only one who’s fought through a creative breakdown and lived to tell the tale. What keeps you going when the words just won’t cooperate? Is it coffee? Chocolate? A pep talk from your favorite podcast?

Drop your survival tips in the comments. Let’s share the chaos and celebrate the small victories, because honestly, we’ve earned it.

Cheers to Chaos and Coffee

So, here’s to the messy, caffeinated, occasionally tearful art of writing. To the mornings where the words come easy and the afternoons where they don’t. And to the creative breakdowns that remind us we’re doing something worth fighting for.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a coffee mug that needs refilling and a draft that needs saving. Wish me luck—again.

There’s a story inside each of us, whether we realize it or not. It’s stitched together from memories, shaped by the places we’ve called home, and colored by the people we’ve loved and lost. These stories aren’t always grand or polished, but they are ours. They’re the quiet threads that bind us to the world and to each other.

This week, I’ve been thinking about the stories we carry—not just the ones we tell, but the ones we hold close. The ones that shape how we see the world, how we navigate its twists and turns. Some of these stories we share freely, while others stay tucked away, waiting for the right moment—or the right person—to be told.

Stories in Everyday Objects

I’ve always believed that objects carry stories, too. A well-worn quilt draped over a chair. A wooden spoon stained from years of stirring stews. Even a simple jar of honey, golden and sticky, can hold a world of meaning if you look close enough.

One object that’s been speaking to me lately is an old tin watering can I found while cleaning out my shed. It’s nothing fancy—dented, a little rusty—but it belonged to my grandmother. She used it in her garden every spring, tending to rows of tomato plants and marigolds. Now, whenever I see it, I can almost hear the hum of her voice, the way she sang softly while she worked.

That watering can has found its way into one of my current projects, not as a centerpiece, but as a quiet reminder of roots and resilience. It’s the kind of detail that might go unnoticed by some readers, but for me, it carries the heart of the story.

Finding the Stories in Our Lives

We all have objects like this—things that might seem ordinary but hold extraordinary meaning. Maybe it’s a recipe scribbled on a scrap of paper, or a locket tucked into a drawer, or even a stone picked up on a long-ago hike. These objects anchor us, reminding us of who we are and where we’ve been.

This week, I’ve been journaling about some of the stories tied to the objects in my life. The journal itself is part of the story—its leather cover soft from years of use, its pages filled with moments I didn’t want to forget. Writing these small stories down feels like tending a garden, watering the roots of my memories so they can bloom into something more.

What Stories Do You Carry?

Think about the objects in your life. What stories do they hold? Who gave them to you? Where did they come from? Why have you kept them?

I’d love to hear about the small things that carry big meaning for you. Drop a comment or even take a moment to write about them for yourself. Sometimes, the simple act of putting those stories into words can remind us of just how much beauty there is in the everyday.

Looking Ahead

This month, I want to focus on weaving these small, personal stories into my writing. They’re the kind of details that make a story feel real, that connect a reader to a character in unexpected ways. After all, it’s not the big moments that define us, but the small ones—the stories we carry, quietly, until we’re ready to share them.

We often think of magic as something distant—hidden in ancient forests, bound in dusty tomes, or whispered in the stories of those who came before us. But magic doesn’t always need to be grand. Sometimes, it’s in the soft creak of a floorboard, the way the wind stirs the trees, or the simple act of noticing what others overlook.

This week, I’ve been searching for the extraordinary in the ordinary. Not because I set out to, but because it found me. A flicker of movement in the corner of my eye became a spark for a story. A half-forgotten lullaby hummed under my breath turned into a theme for a character. The seemingly mundane has a way of speaking to us, if only we’re willing to listen.

Finding Stories in the Everyday

Writers are often asked where our ideas come from, and for me, the answer is simple: everywhere. The clink of a teacup on porcelain. The smell of rain-soaked earth. The feeling of déjà vu when walking a familiar path. These tiny moments are the seeds of something larger—pieces of a puzzle that don’t yet have a frame.

This week’s inspiration came from the most unexpected places:

• A single candle burning on my desk, its flicker casting shadows that looked like moving figures.
• The quiet hum of my neighbor’s wind chimes, caught in a breeze too gentle to be noticed otherwise.
• A mundane dream that lingered longer than it should, its fragments begging to be turned into something tangible.

The Alchemy of Transformation

The mundane is a treasure chest of inspiration waiting to be unlocked. It’s not just about what you see, but how you choose to see it. That candle isn’t just a source of light—it’s a storyteller, casting shadows that hint at the unseen. Those wind chimes aren’t just decoration—they’re a language carried on the breath of the world.

As writers, our role is to take these everyday sparks and transform them into something magical. We look closer, dig deeper, and weave connections where none seem to exist. It’s an act of creation as old as time—and as fresh as the next idea that sneaks up on us.

What Do You See?

I challenge you to look at your world with new eyes. What detail have you overlooked today? What ordinary moment could hold extraordinary meaning if you let it? Share your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear what magic the mundane has brought to your life.

The greatest stories don’t always start with grand gestures or ancient prophecies. Sometimes, they begin with a whisper, a flicker, or a single step into the unknown.

Today is my turn to share my 2025 backlist.

You can find me on TWITTER, FACEBOOK, BLOG, and my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

You can find the above book in all the following locations HERE

You can find the above book in all the following locations HERE

You can find the above book in all the following locations HERE

You can find the above book in all the following locations HERE

You can find the above book in all the following locations HERE

You can find the above book in all the following locations HERE

 

It’s easy to get caught up in the big goals—the ones that feel monumental and daunting at the same time. Write a novel. Land a bestseller. Change the world with words. But as much as those ambitions inspire us, it’s the small wins that truly keep us going.

This week, I celebrated one of those small wins: hitting a word count goal on a tough writing day. It wasn’t a breakthrough scene or the climax of a story—it was a quieter moment, one where the words didn’t flow but trickled, slow and steady. And when I hit save, it felt just as victorious as finishing a chapter.

Why Small Wins Matter

Writing, like life, is built on tiny moments of progress. A paragraph written during a busy lunch break. An idea jotted down on a sticky note. These small victories stack up until, before you know it, you’ve created something significant. They remind us that success isn’t just about the big milestones; it’s about showing up, even on the hard days.

For me, that’s what keeps the keyboard clicking—knowing that even the smallest effort pushes the story forward. Some days, it’s about quantity. Other days, it’s about quality. But every day, it’s about showing up.

This Week’s Small Wins

Here are a few things I’m celebrating this week:

• Finally naming a character I’ve been struggling to define.
• Writing a line of dialogue so perfectly in tune with the character’s voice that it gave me chills.
• Reading a beautiful review from a reader who said my book made them feel seen.

What Are Your Small Wins?

Whether you’re a writer, a reader, or someone chasing goals in a completely different field, take a moment to celebrate the small wins this week. What little victories have kept you moving forward? Share them in the comments—I’d love to cheer you on.

Small steps lead to big journeys. Let’s keep moving forward, one word, one win at a time.

Have you grabbed my new release? 

It's available at the following locations -- all are linked HERE