On Blogging Again

It’s been a long time since I’ve touched this little corner of the internet. Writing blog posts used to be effortless, a much needed break from the struggles of fiction writing, but over time the process began to shift. I started to overthink every word, and still nothing I wrote was good enough. It didn’t help that blogging as a medium died a slow, quiet death. I’ve gone back and forth about starting a newsletter instead, something that would probably be more useful for me in the long term (building an email list and all that) but frankly I don’t think I have enough to say right now to justify clogging up someone’s already full inbox. So I’ve come back to this, a place where I can write without pressure, a bulletin board for my creative life.

2023 Recap

Since it’s been almost 2 years since I posted anything here, let’s have a little recap, shall we? I love seeing how other artists and writers break up their time – how long it takes them to finish projects, how they choose what to focus on. I’m far from consistent, but I think it’s interesting to see the flow of my creative efforts over the course of a year.


  • January – May: Finished the first draft of a novella project. Typing “The End” on a new draft was such a relief. I hadn’t finished a draft of anything longer than a short story since 2018, after many, many false starts. 
  • June – September: Chipped away at my current novel in progress. Wrote several short stories, including my first-ever horror story. I submitted a story to Taco Bell Quarterly, which is exactly what it sounds like: a literary magazine dedicated entirely to Taco Bell. I’m really proud of that story – I wrote something entirely out of my comfort zone, and loved every second of it. If it gets rejected, I’ll be sure to post it in-full here 🙂 
  • October – November: My friends and I tabled at Houston zine fest, so I spent the bulk of these two months prepping for that. Making art is such a satisfying change of pace from writing, because it’s so much easier to see your progress. It may seem like a small thing, but having a physical end product rather than 80,000 words tucked away in a Scrivener doc can make a world of difference. Also, Zine Fest was a blast!
  • December: I’m about 30,000 words into my novel now, and I’m finally starting to hit my stride with it. One of my biggest struggles this year has been finding the energy for creativity around my full time job. I make my best work when I connect with the draft every day, and that just hasn’t been possible recently. Striking that balance between creative consistency and taking care of myself is so freaking hard, but we’re getting there.

On Process

One of the things that inspired me to write this blog post in the first place was the YouTube channel of artist Maria Sisul. Her videos are calming and beautifully shot, and she talks about her creative process with such clarity and purpose. Her videos made me realize that I’ve been trying to brute-force my creativity. I’ve been focusing so much on making myself do the work that I’ve forgotten that there are other structures I can implement for myself outside of tracking word count and measuring progress. What does my creative process actually look like? How can I build routines that support both my productivity and the work itself? Seems obvious, huh? Sometimes I get so caught up in gathering the mental energy required to write that I forget the point of writing itself:  imagination, play, and storytelling. 

This is Where I Leave You

…but hopefully not for long. I’m feeling a little vulnerable and rusty writing this. I’m worried it’s boring to everyone but myself. But I also know that I love reading about other people’s creative lives, from their triumphs all the way down to the routines and schedules that make the work possible. I hope you do, too.

Get Out of a Creative Slump with Me!

I’m a sucker for a fresh start, and there really is nothing more invigorating than the clean slate provided by 365 brand new days rolling out in front of you. New Year’s magic and all that. This year was no different – January began brimming with potential. And then… something happened.

It began with a creeping feeling of dissatisfaction. The days started to feel the same. All of my writing goals felt impossibly, almost comically, far away. Other hobbies felt like a waste of time. My friends were going to grad school, moving across the country, or entering some new phase of their life. And here I was, no closer to my dreams, living the same day over and over again.

Everyone talks about your twenties as a time of momentous change, tumultuous and exciting. But what they don’t mention are the quieter times, where you not only have to navigate the small, everyday challenges of being alive but also steer your life in the direction you want to go, always keeping one eye on the horizon. When the usual milestones of academic achievement and graduation fall away, you have to make your own goal posts. At it’s best, this is an exciting prospect. At it’s worst, it’s crushing. And for the past couple weeks, it’s been crushing me.

Writing this, I don’t feel 100% better, but I can at least see a way out of the stagnancy.

Here’s what helped me get out of it, and hopefully, if you’re feeling something similar, it might help you find a way out, too.

1. Connection – This is sometimes the hardest but most crucial part of getting out a creative rut. One moment of genuine connection, even if it has nothing to do with what you’re going through, can make you feel like you have enough energy to move forward. I spent some time talking things out with my parents, boyfriend, and friends, and even when we weren’t talking about how stuck I felt, they helped me get out of my own head.

2. Lists – Often when I’m stuck I make lists of things I can do to make myself feel better.

Things like:
– Take a walk
-Play with Wally
-Draw something
– Listen to a comfort podcast

When the energy to do ANYTHING is hard to come by, lists can remind you of your coping mechanisms and push you do at least one thing that’s good for you. And if you’re lucky, they unlock something that breaks you out of your slump!

3. One (1) Good Idea – On a particularly bad day this week, I made a quick list of things I wanted to create when I was feeling better. As I wrote the last one, something sparked.

I know that drawing and painting helps me get out of my own head, but the energy required was too much when I was already feeling uninspired. Doodling about how I was feeling, though? That I could do. This tiny spark of inspiration got the creative gears turning again. Remember, all you need is a single idea that give you that familiar push towards action.

4. Draw it out – This exercise was just for me – I didn’t care if it was pretty or if it made sense to anyone but myself. Journaling is great, but when you’re stuck in a loop, it doesn’t help to write about the same feelings over and over. Drawing it out was relaxing, therapeutic, AND it helped me ease back into making art again.

5. Find new inspiration – Around this time I started listening to The Creative Pep Talk podcast. I’d heard about it for years but had never actually listened to more than a couple episodes. Sometimes you need to switch up your usual sources of inspiration, and Andy J. Pizza’s helpful advice was just what I needed.

6. Re-evaluate your priorities – At this point I was starting to feel more optimistic, but the fragile ground I was building for myself still felt like it could crumble at any moment. So I grabbed a notebook and brain dumped. I made unstructured lists. I thought about how and why I wanted to create moving forward. This wasn’t a plan or a to-do list, but just a way to untangle my own thoughts. I needed to figure out how to enjoy creating again, so I tried to name times that creating felt the best. The key here is that I wasn’t putting any pressure on myself to turn this into a schedule, or set goals, or anything like that. I was just feeling it out, trying to see what I already knew worked before I tried to change anything.

7. Make a plan, but hold it loosely – I LOVE planning. When I’m already inspired, a plan can make me feel like anything is possible. But I also knew I couldn’t be as intense about this process when I was still climbing out of my creative rut, so I picked a few things that I was really looking forward to making, like this blog post, and started in on them. And so I came out of this process with a true sense of accomplishment, instead of failing once again at sticking to my numerous and often over-ambitious schedules.

There you have it – my personal roadmap for getting out of a slump, written very freshly on the other side. I’d love to hear what you turn to when you’re feeling uninspired, and if you’re going through a rough period with your creative work or otherwise, please please know you’re not alone. It’s been a rough couple of years, and we’re all in this together. Until next time!

Autumn Equinox

This is the first essay in a year-long series about the four points of the year, the equinox and solstices. The next installment will be Winter Solstice on December 21, 2021.


The world is spinning away from summer. In Texas, the light changes. The clouds change. The heat morphs slowly into something lighter, gentler. No longer a heavy wool blanket, now a thin cotton one. Is that a chill in the air? Or is it only our imagination?

September 22nd. Light and dark in equal measure, like two cups, their contents measured perfectly, the irises of their meniscus curved like an inverted eye. For the next few days the sun sets one minute earlier, and rises one minute later. The light goes without us even noticing. One day soon, I will step out of the bookstore where I work and drive home in darkness. But for now, light and dark are held in perfect balance. The day is precisely as long as it’s meant to be, though it might not feel that way.


Everything blurs. Time is fluid, more so than it was two years ago. Where do the days go? Is summer really over? (In Houston, that’s almost never the case). We have contrived elaborate systems for marking our days: calendars and planners, daylight savings time, moon cycles, menstrual cycles, the work week, the weekend. Why then is it still so hard to keep track? My coworkers and I have whole conversations about how Tuesday feels like a Friday, or Thursday like Monday. This week is going so fast. This week is interminable. It’s almost the end of September. It’s almost the end of the year.

The day after the autumn equinox marks 100 days until the end of the year. I’m a fan of new year’s resolutions, always eager for a clean slate, but I also see the downsides. Productivity circles would have you believe that the year is just a container for you to fill with one task after another, tethered to your ambition like a kite. What do you want to accomplish before the end of the year, they ask. The final slip into winter, into the chaotic joy of the holidays, feels almost accidental, too fast for me to make any meaningful progress towards whatever distant goals I had for myself in January. And yet almost compulsively I set a goal anyway. A small, cautious goal. You know how it goes.


Sometimes when I’m walking the dog at night, we see a long, elegant shape move in the darkness. It startled me the first time I saw it. But then I took a closer look and realized it was a heron. A Night Heron or a Green Heron, impossible to tell in the limited light. My dog acts the way he does when he sees a squirrel or a cat, pulling at the leash, running the circumference of his allotted space. It’s always funny, seeing my little dog on his short stubby legs contend with this ancient creature who’s twice as tall as he is. What advantage are his sharp little teeth when this bird has the gift of flight? As we draw closer, the heron lifts gracefully into the air, beats its wings once or twice, and glides into the nearest oak tree. Within minutes Wally’s attention is back to sniffing the grass, his exuberant alertness trained on the millions of other smells vying for his attention. A whole language I can’t speak. I like the think the heron watches us until we turn the corner at the end of the street, but I’m sure it has more important things to do.

Who’s to say our human lives are more or less busy than the heron’s? Who’s to say our daily tasks – cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping and laundry and commuting and feeding our pets and watering our plants are any more important than a birds’ whose daily tasks are done through instinct more than choice. There’s a quote from Mary Oliver that I return to again and again that says, “The bird in the forest or the fox on the hill has no such opportunity to forgo the important for the trivial… It is now or never for all their vitalities – bonding, nest building, raising a family, migrating or putting on the deeper coat of winter – all is done on time and with devoted care, even if events contain also playfulness, grace, and humor, those inseparable spirits of vitality.” Vitalities. That’s what Mary Oliver calls nature’s habits. Those things that keep creatures big and small alive. Somehow heating up leftovers in the microwave doesn’t feel the same.


And still the world turns, constantly and invisibly. When I was a kid I didn’t understand how seasons worked scientifically, no matter how many times we learned about it in school. Something about the the tilt of the earth’s axis, the distribution of heat and light. Can you tell I still don’t quite get it? I’ve seen the diagrams. But instead I choose, again and again, to feel rather than understand. I try to mark the shifting light, to account for minutes of daylight. Even in a part of the world that only has the approximation of seasons, where summer reigns supreme and all the others pale in comparison, I still like to bring my attention to the shift.

The heat feels lighter. In the mornings, when I let Wally outside into the dew stained grass the air feels cool against my skin. It will feel like summer later in the day, but for this moment, I breathe in the crispness of fall. The wheel of the year turns. The world spins and the light grows thin but also golden.



View from Santa Fe opera

August Wrap Up

New Mexico, Research Woes,
and Some Very Good Books

I thought that instead of only doing monthly reading wrap ups, I would wrap up the month in general, including travel, reading writing and listening.  So here’s my August wrap up! 


What I Saw 

This month my boyfriend and I visited Santa Fe with my parents. We saw the Georgia O’Keefe museum, went hiking, and attended the opera in Santa Fe’s beautiful outdoor opera house. Honestly the best part was the amazing 75 degree weather, and seeing mountains everywhere we went. Not to mention the beautiful vacation home of a family friend where we stayed, with a lush garden buzzing with hummingbirds. 



Adobe home and flowers


SantaFe – attractions for the hummingbirds



Continue reading “Monthly Wrap-Up”

Hello! *waves*

Welcome to my sparkly new corner of the internet. I’ve kept a blog for most of my life, but I haven’t returned to it in several years, mainly because writing a blog in 2021 feels like a particularly futile act. Who even reads blogs anymore? Trust me, I’ve asked myself that question more times than I can count. 

And after much deliberation about the merits of newsletters (they are the new blogs, after all), I’ve decided that I still like having my own cozy little corner of the internet to call my own. I like the idea of readers having a place to go to read what I write, and I hope that if you’re here, you’ll stick around. Settle in. Make yourself a cup of tea. I’d love to chat about all things writing, reading, and the creative life.

In this first post, I want to talk about the way we talk about writing on the internet. To be a writer online, particularly an unpublished writer,  is to exist in a weird liminal space.

Green space over my laptop

“Writing is a form of telepathy between the writer’s mind and the reader’s, a way to give another person a little slice of someone else’s experiences. How is that not magic?”