The Season of Change

I’ve never been a fan of change, yet I find I face it more often than not. No day is ever the same, the seasons shift, and so do we. We learn, we grow, we adapt. If we don’t, we suffocate—and eventually, we die right where we started.


Right now, I’m in another season of change. For years, I worked the typical 9–5 grind. I quit that back in March, and I have no desire to go back. Maybe someday the right opportunity will come along, but for now, it’s nowhere in sight. And with that shift came something unexpected: for the first time ever, I had to build a routine. Over the summer, I found one. Start the day at Pups and Cups. Write. DoorDash. Go home. Write some more.


But now that routine is changing. Again. School is back in session, which means three kids at three different schools across town. My mornings begin with drop-offs, then Pups and Cups until my husband heads to work. After that, DoorDash until the kids are home at three. Football practice runs until 5:15. Then it’s dinner, showers, reading, and bedtime. And only then—three or four more hours of writing.


And in a few weeks, it will all change again when new activities fill the calendar.


So I’ll adapt. Because out of this chaos will come one of my greatest accomplishments.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Welcome to the Chaos

  On a warm, sunny day back in May, life changed.  I had quit my job back in March and picked up DoorDashing to make ends meet, but the truth was, I wasn’t enjoying life. As a mom of three amazing kids—and with a supportive, loving husband who is his own personal hurricane, complete with a hat collection that seems to multiply overnight—I hadn’t had anything that was just mine in years. My car? It looks like three tornadoes tore through it at once.  My house? It’s less of a home and more of a storm front, with the eight-year-old’s toys and the sixteen-year-old’s makeup claiming every room.  And my bedroom? That’s the eye of the storm, where the chaos of family life collides with my husband’s whirlwind ways, and the floor tells its own story. So, I made a decision: I needed to carve out a space that was mine, untouched by the storms swirling around me. That’s when the coffee shop hunt began. I wanted someplace I could slip into each morning, coffee in hand, and just b...
Read more

The Time For Silence Is Over

The days are getting more overwhelming as we go along. A week ago, I was going about my day as usual — starting at the coffee shop, getting everyone where they needed to go, squeezing in a little DoorDash. That afternoon, I heard about the untimely death of a certain someone (I refuse to speak his name because, frankly, he has gotten far too much attention this past week) and I didn’t feel any sort of way. If you had told me then that the United States would be even more divided than it already was over the passing of someone who made racism, transphobia, and anti-women’s rights part of his platform, I would have thought you were crazy. And if you had told me that his death would cause left-leaning people to turn against left-leaning people — and some on the right to turn against their own — I would have called that impossible. I have tried so hard to keep the peace on my social media. I rarely post political content. I don’t stir the pot or rock the boat. And I take full respon...
Read more

The Hardest Scenes are Sometimes the Truest

Image
One of my characters is based on one of my best friends. Just as my best friend has always come through for me, that’s how I’ve written this character. Comatose is filled with fictional events, but it also draws from real moments in my life. I’d always planned for Adyson (the best friend) to have her moment to shine—a scene of pure, raw emotion about everything her friend has put her through over the years. Last night, I finally wrote it. I thought one of the darker, more traumatic scenes would be the hardest to write. I was wrong. The hardest part was stepping into my best friend’s mind, seeing through her eyes, and putting into words the pain I’ve caused her. It’s the only scene in the entire book where I had to stop, leave myself an author’s note in my notebook, and take the rest of the night off. As people, we don’t always see things the way others do. We may not realize how our actions affect someone until we try to stand in their shoes—feel their thoughts, their body, their gri...
Read more