Tales From The Coffee Shop

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...

A while back, a very unfortunate thing happened with my laptop. Of course, as fate would have it, just two weeks after I decided I was going to seriously write a book , the computer died—the one with most of my previous drafts on it. Because why not? At first, I thought it was no big deal. I figured I would just switch to handwriting until further notice. Turns out, it was the best terrible luck thing to ever happen to me. Writing by hand has forced me to slow down. Instead of typing mindlessly, I’ve had to consider each word before putting it on the page. And the result? The changes I’m seeing are insane. Passages that once felt rushed have been reworked into something much stronger. Gaps I didn’t even know were there are now filled in with new depth. Yesterday was one of those sun-up-to-sun-down writing days (okay, maybe not sun-up because my husband let me sleep until 11, but you get the point). And now, as much as I’d rather stay in this story, reality calls. It’s back to D...

The funny thing about this book is that it came to life while I had COVID . The story was always there—I’d written versions of it a few times over the years. But for whatever reason, the delirium that came with COVID in June made me just delusional enough to believe I could write it, publish it, and make a real book out of it. The problem with COVID, though, was that it also made it nearly impossible to work. And in order to fund this dream, I have to be able to work. That setback put me behind in that department. I was finally starting to get caught up—on finances and on writing—when illness struck again. But this time it didn’t bring the same creative delirium that COVID had. Instead, it brought low blood pressure , which made it impossible to focus, let alone write at a level that met my standards. So everything got put on hold. No money-making, no writing, no Pups and Cups . And now? I’m finally feeling well enough today to sit on my couch and write this blog post. Welcome, every...

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 di...

  There have been a few times during this journey of writing Comatose that I’ve genuinely questioned whether or not my characters are real people. One of the more defining moments came early on, when I was struggling to picture them—how they would talk, how they would interact, how they’d feel in the room with me. I made an intentional choice to sit down at Starbucks (this was before I found my local coffee shop home) and imagine them there with me. Some were easier to picture than others. Merri ? Instantly. I could almost hear his laughter, see the playful teasing, and imagine him poking fun at the way I drink my coffee—but never in a cruel way. That same day, Nico earned one of his signature trademarks that you’ll see in the book. But Elias and Alerix were different. Both powerful. Both handsome—but in completely different ways. The challenge was how to separate them on paper. How would I create two distinct presences, each with the weight they deserved? That’s when I ...

My kids have all been at my parents’ house for the summer—a tradition that started when my oldest (now a senior in high school) was just a year old. Today’s the first day I have them all back, and life shifts gears again. With 28 days left to make the book presentable for beta readers , I’m balancing family time with writing time. School starts in just two days, so we’re soaking up the last bit of summer with McDonald’s today—and maybe the park tomorrow if the smoke clears. One child is laughing with other kids, another is poring over his football playbook for his first season, and Mama is listening closely while writing the story that’s haunted her mind for years. This is how we multi-task. This is how we get things done. One little bit at a time.

  This morning I’m at Pups and Cups enjoying something of a different variety: a Hyperhound, as the owner and employees call it — a wild little combination of energy drink and syrups that somehow creates one of their signature flavors. Normally, I’d have my trusty Butterbeer or Caramel Macchiato. But today, things had to change. I don’t have the luxury of sitting here with a hot cup of coffee until it goes lukewarm — my son has football practice twice a day until school starts next week, which means my two-hour window before my husband’s shift is cut down to just one. Everything will slide back to normal once school starts again, but in the meantime my brain feels scrambled by the change. Funny, isn’t it? This routine hasn’t even been mine for that long, and yet it’s already embedded deep enough that the shift is throwing me off. It’s strange how we latch onto little comforts and let them hold us steady. Things that shouldn’t feel like a big deal — swapping a hot drink for a ...