Before I had kids, I was lucky enough to spend hours
devoting myself to various passions. I took lessons in voice and piano. I
studied traditional art methods in college. But most of all, I wrote stories. I
had dreams of becoming a real writer and finally publishing a brilliant
novel just like Jo March. These days, my kids are the only ones I sing to. I
play piano mostly for myself, but sometimes with my four-year-old. I never find
time to sketch or create, but the itch to pick up a pastel stick is never far
off when I see something beautiful. I’m currently writing my 12th novel.
My life is an endless balancing act between my day
job, carting my ten-year-old and four-year-old back and forth to town, keeping
up with the household, and writing. I have tried different time management
methods, tips and tricks, and the truth I’ve learned a decade later is simply
this: what works for one season of life may not work for the next.
My daughter started preschool this year, and I was
amazed at how free my mornings suddenly became. I went from being a writing
night owl to writing first thing after I dropped the kids off at school. Months
ago, my days were spent squeezing in moments to write every chance I could,
usually after the kids were in bed, or typing on the Word app on my phone. For
most parents with young children, you may relate to the constant attempts at a
schedule falling to pieces at a moment’s notice. Juggling work, kids, and
writing has taught me how to be adaptable.
The publishing industry has changed drastically in
the last decade of my career and it promises to continue changing with the ongoing
tide. How do I plan to survive the changes? I adapt with it, but above all, I
continue to tell my stories. If I have any useful tips to share with my fellow
creative entrepreneurs, it’s these three things:
1. Keep
creating because you love it. The love will carry you when habits break
and you consider quitting altogether.
2. Be
adaptable, but don’t chase every trend that comes along. You only have so much
time in a day and that time is precious. Instead of hours scrolling on social
media, read a brilliant book. Better yet: write, create, or make something that
brings you joy.
3. Know
yourself. What times do you feel the most exhausted, and which are you the most
energized? I am the opposite of a morning person, but I have found it so much
easier to write with a fresh brain than a brain exhausted from work, kids, etc.
2026 had shifted drastically from one of my least to
most productive years since I started publishing in 2012. I don’t think I’ve
figured out the secret formula for success. If anything, I find myself falling
back to the things I love doing most. I write stories, I play piano, and I
spend time with my son and daughter. And while I’m perpetually exhausted like
most mothers I know, I’m content.
When I look at my life, and look back at the choices
I’ve made, I can honestly say I would make them all again if they led me to
this place. The bug is still here to create. I still have dreams and ambitions
that like to whisper in my ear at night. One day, my kids will be adults and
I'll be left with all the time in the world to fill. While a small part of me
looks forward to that day, I have a feeling I will miss this chaotic time when
my kids were small, and life flowed by like a song. For now, I will continue to
live in the moment and cherish the magic of ordinary days.
Excerpt
IN A FORGOTTEN CASTLE IN WYLDERLAND…
Alone with Grendel, the man she had been tempted to love, the prince she loathed, Vynasha didn’t want to wake up. Let her sleep for a thousand years like the cursed princess, Morana. Let these walls crumble, the rose garden spread throughout the keep with thorns and vines to keep the world out forever.
“I know you are awake, Ashes.”
Vynasha opened her eyes. The prince stood before the hearth, his back to her. He hadn’t changed clothes since she had last seen him. Yet his faintly luminous skin had dimmed from bronze to the dull gray she remembered. “What happened?” she asked.
“A fever in your sleep. Odym says it was the runes.” Grendel’s shoulders hunched as he hung his head. “I should not have come, I know this. But I…” he twisted to face her. “Forgive me, Vynasha, but I cannot stay away from you any longer. I could feel your pain through the bond, yet there was nothing I could do to stop her,” he growled. “Do not ask me to leave you again, I beg of you.”
Vynasha should have been disgusted, but she was coming to accept the fact that Odym had been right. No matter how she truly felt, they needed each other. And she could not deny the way his words danced about her mind and breathed life back into her limbs.
“I wish I could tell you I was different,” he continued, “before my mother cursed me. But the truth is, I was always a monster.” Grendel drew his shoulders back and lifted his chin, pushing away from the fireplace mantel. He shook his head and held his hands before him, palms upturned. “I never wanted to be my father. I shall not make his mistakes, and so I will be honest with you, Ash. No more secrets.”
She shuddered and desperately wished she could bathe, could banish dreams of Nymwe and be rid of the prince. The dread she felt before only grew as Grendel paused, clenching his fists as though steeling himself for words he could not take back.
“I owe you everything, so much more than you know. When you willingly accepted the curse, you took some of the monster into you. I have not been forced to change into a beast ever since. It has given me time to remember myself in your absence, who I was and who I hope to be.”
Vynasha ground her sharp teeth. So they not only shared a bond with his spirit, but she had taken part of his beast? That they were forced to share something she had learned to take pride in made her ill.
Whatever he saw in her face must have pained him, enough for him to turn away. “Forgive me. I shall go. I should have never hoped…” He shook his head, dispelling whatever he might have said as he took two more steps to the door.
She traced the tip of her tongue on her lip, tasting the blood she spilled to forget. His hand was on the doorknob when she said, “Wait.” The strength behind her command surprised her and caused the prince to freeze in place.
Vynasha lifted her hand with surprising ease. “Stay?”
We need each other.
His graying skin flickered to golden life as he turned with hope burning in his violet eyes. “Always.”
At his word, his promise, Vynasha released the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Even then, a small corner of her mind railed against her actions, at the feelings she couldn’t seem to control. It must Grendel’s influence, his feelings trickling through their bond.
This is wrong.
Still, she couldn’t deny how the persistent itch beneath her skin abated with him beside her, holding her hand. It shouldn’t have mattered. Truly, she hated how easily she gave in to these feelings. She could never tell him. Grendel had bound her life to his. Even if she were to leave, to beg the wylderfolk to take her back into their home, she would never be rid of him. And the longer she remained in the prince’s castle, the less she wanted to be free.
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