Honestly, none of it is groundbreaking. If you’ve been reading my newsletters or listening to my podcast for a while, you’ve heard versions of these ideas before. But I’ve learned that sometimes the thing we need isn’t new information. Sometimes we just need to hear the same truth again at exactly the right moment. So if you’re dreaming about writing a novel—or if you’ve been stuck on one for a while—these are the five things I want you to know.

1. Start smaller than you think you should

One of the biggest mistakes writers make is trying to plan everything before they begin. They want the perfect outline. The perfect publishing plan. The perfect roadmap from idea to finished book.

But all that planning often creates overwhelm instead of clarity.

If you came to me with a color-coded outline for a trilogy and a self-publishing checklist, I’d probably ask one simple question:

What’s the next scene? That’s it. Not the next hundred scenes. Not your marketing plan.

The next scene.

Momentum comes from writing, not from endlessly preparing to write.

2. Build your writing around your life

So many moms assume they need more time before they can write. But waiting for hours of free time is often what keeps the dream stuck. Instead, I encourage writers to look at the life they already have.

Where are the small pockets of time?

• Ten minutes before work.

• Fifteen minutes during nap time.

• Twenty minutes after bedtime.

Those small windows add up. In fact, I’d rather see someone write twenty minutes a day than wait for a mythical three-hour block that never arrives. Your writing needs to fit into your real life, not the other way around.

3. Decide you’re a writer before you feel ready

This one changed everything for me. For years, I thought I needed to earn the title of writer. Then I realized something important: The identity comes first. When you decide you’re a writer, you start behaving like one. You prioritize writing. You make time for it. You keep coming back to it.

You don’t need proof before you claim the identity. You claim the identity and then create the proof.

4. Expect the process to feel messy

I wish more writers knew this. The creative process is messy. The first draft is messy. The second draft is messy. Honestly, I’m currently working through a fifth draft that still feels messy.

Confusion doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. Doubt doesn’t mean you’re failing. Messiness is part of the process. The goal isn’t to avoid it.

The goal is to keep going through it.

5. Get support sooner than you think you need it

Writers often tell themselves they’ll figure everything out on their own. And while independence is great, isolation can keep you stuck. Support creates clarity. It creates momentum. It helps you move through obstacles faster.

Whether that’s a writing community, a critique partner, or a coach, having someone in your corner makes a huge difference.

You don’t have to carry the entire journey by yourself.

If I could leave you with one final thought, it’s this: Writing a novel is absolutely possible.

Not because it’s easy, or because you’ll always feel motivated, or even because you’ll suddenly have tons of free time.

It’s possible because you can learn the skills, build the habits, and keep showing up, one scene at a time, one writing session at a time, one messy draft at a time.

That’s how books get written.

And if you’d like support along the way, that’s exactly what I help moms do inside my 12-month coaching program. Together, we’ll build a writing routine that works for your real life, move through the mindset challenges that keep writers stuck, and create a clear path to a finished draft.

I'm taking on a limited number of coaching clients before maternity leave later this summer. Reach out if you’d like some support in bringing this dream to life. You can book a free consultation call HERE.

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Calling yourself a writer feels big because you’re claiming something important. You’re stepping into an identity that maybe you’ve admired in other people for years. You think about your favorite authors, the books you’ve loved, the stories that changed you, and suddenly calling yourself a writer can feel like you’re putting yourself in the same category.

That can feel vulnerable. It can also feel like you’re exposing a part of yourself that you’ve kept private for a long time.

Writing is such an internal thing. So much of it happens quietly, in notebooks, in Google Docs, in your own imagination. When you tell someone you’re a writer, you’re inviting them into a dream that might feel deeply personal.

And that’s what makes it scary.

For many of us, it also creates a sense of accountability. Once you say it out loud, it can feel like you’re committing to something. You’re no longer just someone who likes writing. You’re someone who writes.

That shift can bring up a lot of fear.

For most of my life, I never called myself a writer. I wrote constantly. I wrote stories as a kid. I wrote throughout high school and college. I wrote after college.

But I would say things like, “I like to write” or “I’m working on a book.”

Writing was something I did. It wasn’t who I was.

That changed in 2020 when I got serious about writing and publishing my first cozy mystery. I realized that if I wanted to finish a book, I needed to stop treating writing as a hobby I occasionally participated in and start treating it as part of my identity. I needed to become a writer before I had proof. That was so uncomfortable for me.

The first place I practiced was in my journal. I would write, “I am a writer.” Even that felt scary. No one was reading it or judging me. But writing those words down forced me to confront how much resistance I had around claiming that identity.

Eventually, I shared it with my sister. I remember being nervous to send that text message. I intentionally chose someone I knew would be supportive because my nervous system couldn’t handle anything else.

And she was incredibly supportive. That one small step made it easier to take the next one.

One of the biggest reasons writers struggle with this identity is because they believe they need some kind of external validation first.

Maybe publication, a finished manuscript, an agent, a certain number of books sold.

But publishing is a business milestone. It’s not an identity marker. A writer is someone who writes, that’s it. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. If you’ve taken a break but still feel called to writing, I would argue that identity is still there too. The title doesn’t arrive after you achieve something. The title helps you achieve something.

That was certainly true for me. I don’t think I would have finished my first book if I hadn’t been willing to call myself a writer before I felt ready. The identity came first, and the evidence came later.

I also think moms face an additional challenge here. There are so many messages telling us that creative work is frivolous. That writing is selfish. That there are more practical ways to spend our time. When you’re already juggling work, parenting, household responsibilities, and everything else, it can feel difficult to justify saying, “I’m a writer.”

But your creativity matters. Your dreams matter. The story tugging on your sleeve matters. And claiming the identity of writer doesn’t mean abandoning your other identities. You can be a mom and a writer. A working professional and a writer. A partner and a writer.

These identities can coexist.

So what’s the upside of saying it anyway? When you start calling yourself a writer, you begin living into that identity. You start asking different questions. When will I write today? How can I prioritize my writing this week? What support do I need to finish this book?

The identity starts shaping your actions.

I’ve seen this happen with my clients over and over again. Once they stop waiting for permission and start claiming the title, they show up differently. They take themselves more seriously. They make decisions from a place of commitment rather than hesitation.

Here’s my challenge for you: Find one low-stakes way to practice.

• Write “I am a writer” in your journal.

• Tell a trusted friend.

• Mention it to a stranger at a coffee shop.

You don’t have to announce it to the entire internet, just take one small step. The fear doesn’t mean you’re wrong, it means you care. Sometimes the things that matter most are the things that feel the scariest to claim.

If this resonated with you and you’re ready to fully step into your identity as a writer, I’d love to help. My 12-month coaching program is designed to help moms build confidence, create sustainable writing routines, and finish the novel they’ve been dreaming about.

I'm taking on a limited number of coaching clients before I head out on maternity leave later this summer. Book a free consultation call or shoot me a PM if you'd like support building a writing life that works alongside motherhood, rather than waiting until the fall.

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And I get it. When your time is limited, it makes sense to want that time to count. You don’t want to spend months (or years) on a book that won’t go anywhere. But there’s something really important that often gets lost in that thinking. You’re the one writing the book. If it doesn’t light you up, it’s going to be so much harder to finish.

The balance between creativity and the market

I want to be clear: understanding the market matters. Knowing your genre matters. If you’re writing romance, readers expect a happy ending. If you’re writing mystery, they expect justice to be served.

Those expectations are real, and they’re helpful.

But that doesn’t mean you have to write a book that feels like you’re checking boxes. It doesn’t mean you have to force yourself into a story that doesn’t actually excite you. There is a middle ground. You can write something that fits within a genre and still feels like yours. You can meet reader expectations while bringing your own perspective, your own characters, your own energy to the page.

That’s where the magic happens.

What happens when you follow your creative curiosity

When you allow yourself to write the book that actually excites you, a few things change. You write faster and with more ease, because you’re not forcing it. Creativity flows when it feels alive, not when it feels like an obligation.

You build momentum, because you want to come back to the story. Even when you’re tired, even when life is full, there’s something pulling you back in. And your characters become richer, because they’re infused with your real curiosity and emotional energy, not something you’re trying to manufacture.

I’ve experienced this myself. After I became a mom, I found myself less connected to a book I had been working on. It was a cozy mystery, something I’ve written a lot of and still love. But in that moment, it wasn’t lighting me up in the same way. So I took a detour. I started writing something a little more magical, a little different. And that shift brought me back to life creatively. Later, I returned to the original book and finished it. But that detour was exactly what I needed to nourish my creativity at a challenging point in life (those newborn days are no joke!).

How to tell if you’re following joy or fear

This is something that comes up a lot with my clients (and myself, honestly). How do you know if you’re following your creative instinct… or just avoiding something hard?

When you’re following joy, you feel curious. You think about the story even when you’re not writing. You get excited about scenes, even if you’re not sure how they’ll work. There’s energy there, even if there’s also some nervousness.

When you’re following fear, it feels heavy. You think, “I should write this,” instead of “I want to.” You might find yourself avoiding the manuscript, doing more research than necessary, or letting life get in the way.

It’s not always obvious, but if you pause and reflect, you can usually feel the difference.

Permission to pivot (without abandoning everything)

I want to say this carefully, because I don’t mean jumping from project to project and never finishing anything.

But there are times when it’s worth asking: is this still the right story for me?

If the core of the story no longer lights you up - if the characters, the world, the finished book itself doesn’t excite you anymore - that might be a signal.

Pivoting doesn’t mean you’re flaky. It means you’re paying attention. For me, stepping away from one project and exploring something else actually helped me come back with more clarity, more energy, and more love for the work.

Creativity isn’t linear. It doesn’t follow a perfect plan. Sometimes the detour is what gets you where you were trying to go all along.

If you’ve been trying to force yourself to write a book that doesn’t feel right, because you think you should, I want you to pause and ask yourself: What story actually lights me up right now?

And if you’re feeling torn between ideas, unsure what to pursue, or stuck in that tension between creativity and practicality… that’s exactly what I help my clients work through. In 1:1 book coaching, we find the story that lights you up, and throughout our time together, we keep reminding you why you want to write this particular story.

If you could use some support to stay committed and on track with the story on your heart, let’s get on a free consultation call to discuss how I can help.

We’ll talk through your ideas, your goals, and help you choose a direction that feels aligned and doable.

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I’m currently pregnant with my second baby, and something I’ve noticed this time around is just how different my mindset is about writing.

The first time I was pregnant, I made a very intentional decision to pause my writing. I stopped for about six or seven months. And at the time, it made sense. I was exhausted. The first trimester was hard. I had anxiety from a previous miscarriage. I was also working through my book coaching certification.

It felt like too much to do both.

But if I’m being really honest with myself now… I was also avoiding the hard part of writing. I was deep in edits, and editing felt heavy. And stepping away was, in some ways, convenient. I told myself I would come back to it later. But I didn’t have a clear plan for when or how that would happen.

It was very much “someday.”

The moment everything shifted

After my son was born, there was this moment when he was a few weeks old where things started to feel a little more stable. He was napping. I had small pockets of time. And I remember just feeling… lost in them.

I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had spent so much time focused on pregnancy and then caring for him that I had disconnected from who I was before. So I sat down and made a list of things I could do in that time. And one of the things I wrote was: write my book. And it hit me: I’m still a writer. That part of me didn’t go away. I had just paused it.

Rebuilding my writing life (from scratch)

Coming back to writing wasn’t immediate or easy. I had to figure out what it looked like in this completely new life. And that meant letting go of how things used to be. I lowered my expectations dramatically. Five or ten minutes of writing was enough. I let the process look different. I stopped trying to recreate my old routine and started building a new one that fit into motherhood. I even took a creative detour at one point and wrote something completely different, just to reconnect with the joy of writing. And eventually, I came back to the original book and finished it.

What’s different this time

Now, in this second pregnancy, the circumstances aren’t easier.

If anything, I have less time. I have a toddler and a business. Life is full. But the difference is how I see myself. This time, it’s not a question of whether I’ll keep writing. I know I will. Even if the process looks slower, my routine looks different, and things are harder. I keep writing because I trust myself to figure it out.

The power of self-trust

That’s really the biggest shift. The first time, it was “I don’t know if I can do this.” Now, it’s “I don’t know exactly how it will look, but I’ll figure it out.” And that changes everything.

It changes how I approach my writing, handle resistance, and move through uncertainty. Because writing always comes with uncertainty. You don’t know how the book will turn out until you write it. But if you trust yourself to keep going, that uncertainty becomes something you can work through, not something that stops you.

You don’t have to wait

If you take anything from this, let it be this: You don’t have to stop writing just because life changes. Your timeline might stretch. Your routine might look completely different. But your identity as a writer doesn’t have to disappear. Writing doesn’t require perfect conditions.

It just requires you to keep choosing it.

If you’re in a season where everything feels different—and you’re trying to figure out how writing fits into your life now—you don’t have to figure it out alone. This is exactly what I help my clients do. We don’t force a rigid system. We build something that works for your real life, your time, and your energy.

I’d love to share more about how book coaching can help you wrok through your challenging life season and actually make progress on your novel. Book a free consultation to get started.

Let’s figure out what writing can look like for you right now, together.

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“I just need things to calm down first.”

Maybe your kids are little. Maybe work is intense. Maybe life just feels overwhelming right now. And so you tell yourself that you’ll start writing later, when there’s more time, more space, more energy.

But here’s the truth. The perfect time to write isn’t coming. Life is always going to be full. There will always be something that needs your attention, your energy, your care. Even when one season ends, another one begins. So if you’re waiting for everything to calm down before you start… you might be waiting forever.

If not now, then when?

We can’t predict the future. We can’t guarantee that some magical window of time is going to open up where everything feels easy.

I think about this in my own life. If I hadn’t made the decision to start writing seriously when I did, I wouldn’t have a six-book series out in the world. I wouldn’t have a podcast. I wouldn’t be coaching writers.

At the time, my life wasn’t calm or perfect. It just felt like the moment where I decided: this matters enough to start now. And that decision changed everything.

Starting builds confidence

One of the biggest shifts for me was realizing that confidence doesn’t come from thinking about writing. it comes from doing it. I watched videos. I read books. I consumed so much content about how to write a novel. And those things helped.

But what actually built my confidence was sitting down and writing. Proving to myself, one small step at a time, that I could do this. Action builds belief.

Small steps are enough

You don’t need hours, or a perfect routine, or to have everything figured out first (including a detailed outline).

You need a starting point.

For me, that looked like writing in small pockets of time. At one point, I wrote a full first draft in about three months, writing 20 minutes a day on weekdays. Not because I had tons of free time, but because I decided that 20 minutes was enough. And I built from there.

You can start even smaller. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Once a week if that’s what’s available to you.

The goal isn’t perfection, it’s consistency. And consistency emerges once you’re committed to doing the work, messily and in the pockets of life.

What if you’re in survival mode?

I want to acknowledge this, because it’s real. There are seasons where life is genuinely hard. Where you’re dealing with stress, grief, financial pressure, or just trying to get through the day. This isn’t about adding more pressure to your life. It’s about deciding what matters. Maybe writing isn’t a priority right now, and that’s okay.

But if it is something you want, something that keeps tugging at you, something you keep thinking about… then it’s worth asking: Am I waiting for a future that may never come? And if so, what is the smallest step I could take today?

Start where you are

You don’t need a perfect plan, more time, or permission. You just need to begin. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s small. Even if it feels uncertain.

Because the act of starting is what creates momentum. And momentum is what carries you to the end.

If you’ve been waiting to start your novel, this is your sign. And if you want support figuring out how to make writing fit into your real life - not an ideal version of it - I can help.

Inside my 1:1 coaching program, we build a sustainable writing routine, work through the mindset blocks, and get you all the way to a finished draft. If this resonated, book a free consultation call here. Let’s make this the moment you start.

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But looking back, I can see a few places where I made mistakes. Not mistakes that ruined anything, but places where I would approach things differently now, especially as I’m working on a new series.

I want to share those with you, not so you can avoid doing things “wrong,” but so you can see that growth is part of the process.

1. I didn’t plan the series arc clearly enough

When I started writing my cozy mystery series, I told myself I didn’t need to plan much. Each book had its own mystery, so I figured I could just write one book at a time and let things unfold.

And in many ways, that worked, and it kept writing fun and flexible. But what I found over time was that the bigger picture threads weren’t as strong as they could have been.

I would introduce characters or hints of conflict in earlier books, and then not fully follow through on them later. I wasn’t tracking those threads clearly, and it made the series feel less cohesive than I wanted.

What I’ve learned now is that you don’t need to plan everything perfectly, but it helps to have an awareness of how things connect - especially when it comes to your characters. Readers fall in love with characters, and seeing them grow and evolve across a series is what makes it really compelling.

So now, I think less about plotting every detail and more about asking: how will these characters change over time?

2. I doubted my messy first drafts

This is one I still have to remind myself of constantly. My first drafts are always messy. They’re underwritten, chaotic, and full of gaps. I jump around between scenes. I’m not always sure what’s happening or where it’s going. And for a long time, I thought that meant I wasn’t doing it right.

Even after finishing one book… then two… then three… I kept thinking it should get easier. That my drafts should be cleaner by now. That I should “know what I’m doing.” But every single time, I ended up in the same place: staring at a messy draft and wondering what I had just written.

What I’ve learned is that this is my process. The mess is not a problem, it’s the starting point. Revision is where the clarity comes in. That’s where I step back, see the big picture, and shape it into something stronger. Now, when I hit that messy stage, I remind myself: I’ve done this before. I can do it again.

3. I didn’t trust my process

This one is connected to the first two.

Because my process felt messy and chaotic, I assumed something was wrong. I spent a lot of time looking for better methods, better outlines, better systems… something that would make writing feel easier.

I tried detailed outlining methods. I tried following other people’s step-by-step processes. And what I found was that those methods didn’t actually work for me. In some cases, they made it harder. I’d outline so much that I felt like I had already written the story, and then I didn’t even want to draft it.

What I’ve learned is that my process is mine. It’s intuitive. It evolves as I go. And trying to force it into someone else’s system actually pulls me further away from my story. There’s nothing wrong with learning from others (I’m a book coach, so I teach people strategies and techniques!), but at some point, you have to trust yourself.

What does this mean for you?

You don’t have to get it perfect, you don’t have to have everything planned out, you don’t have to write clean first drafts, you don’t have to follow someone else’s process.

You just have to keep going.

Every book you write teaches you something. Every messy draft builds your skill. Every “mistake” is actually part of how you learn what works for you.

If you’re in the middle of a messy draft, or doubting your process, or feeling like you’re doing it “wrong,” I want you to know: you’re not. And you don’t have to figure it all out alone.

Inside my 1:1 coaching program, I help moms build a writing process that actually fits them, so they can stop second-guessing and finally finish their novels. If this resonated, you can book a free consultation call. Let’s talk about your story and how to move it forward.

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And along the way, I’ve learned a lot about what makes self-publishing hard… and what makes it deeply worth it.

For me, the decision to self-publish (vs pursuing a traditional publishing deal) came down to two things: Control and speed.

In cozy mystery, readers don’t necessarily care how a book is published, they care about the story.

Self-publishing gave me full creative control with the cover, the timeline to publish, and the story itself. It also meant I could bring books into the world faster than the traditional publishing timeline allows. That mattered to me.

Self-publishing also means wearing multiple hats: writer, editor, publisher, marketer. There’s a learning curve, with covers, blurbs, platforms, distribution. It can feel overwhelming at first.

But here’s what I realized: There isn’t one “perfect” path. Instead, there are countless ways to succeed. Once I stopped trying to make the perfect decision, and focused on making a decision, everything became easier.

Like motherhood, it’s project management. And moms are uniquely equipped for that. We already make fast decisions, break big things into small steps, and manage a lot of chaos. Self-publishing works the same way.

Here are a few things that made it worth it for me:

1. Creative control

I love deciding how and when my books enter the world. Some launches have even been on my birthday, just because I could. Having total ownership over my books matters to me.

2. Direct reader connection

Self-publishing gave me a direct relationship with readers. I hear what they love, and what resonates, and I use that feedback as fuel to keep going. As a lifelong reader myself, knowing someone connects with my stories is magical.

3. Identity

Self-publishing helped me stop waiting for permission because it forced me to take myself seriously. To say: I am a writer, and I publish books. It shifted my confidence, not just in finishing books, but in building a writing life.

Finishing and publishing books didn’t just fulfill a childhood dream. It led to my coaching business, where I now help other writers cross the finish line. I know deeply how holding that finished book in your hands will change your life, and I want to help as many moms as I can have that same experience.

If publishing feels overwhelming, or finishing your novel feels out of reach, then coaching can help you build the foundation first. Inside my 1:1 program, we focus on completing your draft and shaping it into something you’re proud to share.

If this spoke to you, book a free consultation call here. Let’s get your story written.

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“If I just had more time… a free afternoon, a quiet weekend, an uninterrupted hour. Then I could finally write my novel.”

But the truth is, time isn’t the real problem. Over the years, as a writer-mom and coaching moms who write, I’ve noticed three “time traps” that keep us stuck, even when we deeply want to write. And once you see them, you can escape them.

Trap #1: Waiting for a huge block of time

It’s easy to believe writing requires a long stretch of uninterrupted time. But that big block? It rarely comes. And even when it does… it’s surprisingly easy to fill it with laundry, errands, or rest instead of writing.

Writing actually thrives in small containers. When you sit down for 10–20 minutes, you don’t have time to overthink, research endlessly, or scroll. You just write.

When I was drafting one of my novels, I wrote for about 20 minutes most weekdays for three and a half months, and finished a full draft that way. Not by writing everyday or even perfectly, but showing up as consistently as I could. I found that my flow didn’t come before I started, it came after I sat down to do the work.

The more often I showed up, the faster I could drop into that flow and get more words written. The same can happen for you, too.

Trap #2: Letting everyone else’s needs come first

This one runs deep. As moms, we’re wired to prioritize everyone else: our kids, work, household, our partners. Writing feels optional, even selfish, compared to everything else we’ve got going on.

But what if it’s not? What if writing is actually an investment in your family? When you make space for something meaningful to you, you refill your own cup. And your kids see something powerful: Mom has dreams too. They see what it looks like to pursue something that matters.

I remember attending a virtual writing retreat and feeling guilty for being away from my son for a few hours on a Saturday. But when I came back to him, I felt energized and present in a way I hadn’t before. Taking time to write didn’t take away from my family. It helped me show up more fully for them.

Trap #3: Overplanning instead of writing

This one feels productive, but often keeps you stuck.

It sounds like: “I just need a better outline first.” “I need to map everything out.” “I need to know exactly where the story is going.”

So you plan. And plan. And re-plan.

But writing is where clarity actually comes from. Characters evolve on the page. Stories shift. You can’t truly know them until you begin. Magic happens when you trust what you already have, and simply start.

You don’t need more hours, more quiet, more certainty (though we’d all love to have all three!). What you do need is small pockets of time, permission to prioritize yourself, and a willingness to start messy.

And if you feel stuck in one of these traps, unsure how to move forward, you don’t have to figure it out alone. That’s exactly what coaching is for. Inside my 1:1 program, I help moms build sustainable writing habits that fit their real lives, so they can finally finish their novels.

If this resonated, you can book a free consultation call here. Let’s talk about what’s keeping you stuck, and how we can move you forward.

In the comments, let me know: which of these traps has kept you most stuck with your writing?

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Finishing one book is powerful. But finishing multiple books? That changes how you see yourself forever.

Here’s what I’ve learned, and what I hope will be helpful for you as you work on your novel.

You don’t have to plan everything upfront

When I started the series, I didn’t map out all six books. I knew there would be interconnected storylines and character growth, but I let the details unfold as I wrote.

I often see writers get stuck trying to plan book two and book three before finishing book one. But so much changes as you write. The most important thing is staying with the story you’re in. Persistence is built one book at a time.

Expect the murky middle

Every single book in that series had a moment where doubt crept in. Without fail.

I questioned the story, I wondered if I should quit early, I worried I was repeating myself. But eventually I learned something crucial:

Doubt doesn’t mean anything has gone wrong. It means you’re in the process.

Once I finished one book, I carried that belief forward: I did it once. I can do it again. That belief became fuel for getting through all 6 books.

Slow down — but don’t stop

Around book four, I realized I needed to think more intentionally about the larger arc of the series. So I slowed down enough to plan… but not so much that fear could take over.

There’s a balance here: Slow down to listen to the story, but keep moving forward, because momentum matters.

The real payoff of persistence

Writing that series gave me something incredibly valuable: Confidence.

Confidence that I could finish big creative projects, that readers would enjoy my work, and in my identity as a writer.

I never gave up on those characters, and in the process, I stopped giving up on myself. Persistence builds self-trust.

Think bigger than one book

If you finished your first book… what would become possible? Another book? A series? A whole writing life?

You become a writer when you write, but also when you feel pulled to keep writing. That pull is worth following.

I’d love to know in the comments how building the skill of persistence can help you finish your novel.

If you want persistence in your writing but keep stalling out, you don’t have to do it alone. Inside my 12-month coaching program, I help writers stay accountable, move through doubt, and keep going until they finish.

Book a free consultation call here. Let’s talk about your story, and how you can finally see it through.

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At the start of a new year (or honestly, any time we return to writing after a break), there can be so much pressure to dive back in perfectly.

We tell ourselves this is the moment we’re going to write every day. Hit big word counts. Finally “get serious.”

And yet… that pressure is often exactly what keeps us stuck.

So today I want to share the real secret to becoming a consistent writer.

And I won’t make you wait for it.

The secret is lowering the bar.

Not raising your expectations, or demanding more discipline, or pushing harder. It’s lowering the bar.

Because consistency doesn’t come from intensity, it comes from making it easy to show up.

Why lowering the bar works

When we set high expectations, like write 1,000 words a day, or find an hour daily, we activate resistance in our brains.

Life inevitably interrupts. Kids get sick. Work shifts. Sleep routines fall apart.

And the moment we miss a day? Shame creeps in.

We start thinking: Maybe this isn’t the right time. Maybe I can’t actually do this. That spiral leads straight to avoidance.

But when you lower the bar, you reduce that resistance. The smaller the ask, the easier it is to return.

I discovered this firsthand after becoming a mom. Before, I could sit down for an hour or more to write. After my son was born, I had to rebuild my writing life in 10- and 20-minute sessions.

So instead of asking, How will I find an hour? I asked, What is the easiest amount I can do today?

And that shift made me more productive than ever. I even drafted a novel writing 20 minutes every weekday for a few months. Lowering the bar didn’t slow me down, it got me doing the work and making steady progress.

What lowering the bar looks like

It means thinking about consistency at the micro level.

Maybe it’s:

• Opening your manuscript for one minute

• Setting a five-minute timer

• Journaling about where your story is headed

• Rereading the last paragraph you wrote

And then (this part is important): letting that be enough.

Because every small action reinforces your identity as a writer. You are someone who shows up for her novel. Even when it’s messy, and even when it’s brief.

Let your season of life set the bar

Your capacity shifts depending on the season you’re in — postpartum, toddler years, school schedules, career transitions.

So instead of expecting yourself to jump back into writing just because it’s the beginning of the year… pause and ask:

What is actually realistic for me right now?

For me, writing alongside others helps me stay consistent. So I committed to one weekly writing session with a friend — not five, not even two.

Just one.

Enough to ease back in, and enough to keep my nervous system from freaking out. Consistency grows from what is sustainable.

How to build a routine that sticks

Start with three simple steps:

1. Define your minimum writing action

What can you do even on your most exhausted day? Two sentences? Five minutes? Keep it small.

2. Attach it to a cue

• After daycare drop-off

• During breakfast

• While waiting in the pickup line.

The cue matters more than the time because you’re training your brain to expect writing.

3. Celebrate the small wins

Don’t wait for massive milestones to feel proud. Every time you show up, it counts. That celebration teaches your brain: this matters.

Five minutes still builds books

Every book ever written is built from hundreds of tiny sessions. So ask yourself:

Will you make more progress waiting for an hour each day… or writing five minutes consistently for three months?

(You already know the answer.)

Here’s my invitation to you: choose one micro-habit for the month, and relfect on how it feels to show up with less pressure in your writing.

If you’re ready for support as you build this consistency — someone to help you create a sustainable routine, stay accountable, and finish your novel — I’d love to help.

Book a free consultation call here to get started with 1:1 coaching and finally finish the novel of your dreams.

Let’s make your writing life doable inside your real life.

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They’re the stories we whisper to our kids before bed, the ones we jot down between school drop-offs, the ones that live quietly in our heads as we fold laundry or sit in traffic.

They’re the stories that show what it means to love, to lose, to rebuild—to live a life made up of both dreams and duty.

But too often, moms convince themselves that their stories don’t matter.

That they’re too busy or too tired to start.
That no one would care what they have to say.
That other people’s stories are more important.

And when we believe that, we lose something precious—not just for ourselves, but for everyone who might’ve needed to hear our words.

Why your story matters

Your story matters because it’s real. Because it shows someone else what’s possible.

When you write about a woman finding herself again, or a mother rediscovering her creativity, or a character trying to balance love and ambition—you’re not just telling a story. You’re creating a mirror for someone else to see themselves more clearly.

That’s the power of storytelling.

I’ve had readers tell me how important my books were for them during a challenging point in their lives, or how my books brought them laughter and joy when they really needed it.

Stories are empathy engines. They remind us that we’re not alone.

And as moms, we need that reminder more than anyone.

The hidden courage in writing

Writing as a mom is an act of quiet rebellion.

You’re saying: I matter too. My creativity matters. My voice matters.

You’re modeling something powerful for your kids—not perfection, but persistence. You’re showing them what it looks like to nurture your own dreams, even while nurturing others.

That’s not selfish. That’s legacy-building.

Coaching and connection

When I work with clients, I see this over and over again.

They start out wanting to write a book—but what they really discover is themselves.

They find their voice again. Their spark. Their courage to take up creative space, even when life is full.

That’s the transformation I love witnessing most—the shift from I don’t have time for this to I can’t imagine my life without this.

That’s what my 12-month coaching program is all about—helping moms reconnect with their voice and write the stories they were meant to tell.

Your next step

If this resonates with you, I recorded a podcast episode about this exact topic—Episode 14: Why Your Story Matters, Especially as a Mom.

It’s a gentle reminder of why your creativity matters, even in the chaos of everyday life.

🎧 Listen to it on Spotify!

Maybe you’ve been telling yourself you’ll write “someday.” But someday starts with one sentence. One story that only you can tell. You better start writing.

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It took three years, one baby, and countless nap-time writing sessions to get here, and I’m so proud of what this book represents.

When I held the printed copy in my hands, I realized this milestone wasn’t only about publishing another cozy mystery. It was about proving to myself that motherhood hadn’t ended my creative life—it had deepened it.

Here are three lessons I learned from publishing this book as a mom and full-time working author-coach.

1. Creativity changes after motherhood—and that’s a good thing

Before my son was born, I could map out my novels down to the week: draft, edit, publish, repeat. After he arrived, that system completely fell apart—and so did my old creative rhythms.

For a while, I fought it. I told myself I should go back to the series I’d already started, because that’s what my readers expected. But every time I opened the document, it felt heavy.

What I really wanted was to write something completely different—something magical, something for me.

So I gave myself permission to follow that spark. I wrote a new story in 20-minute chunks during nap times. It wasn’t what I planned, but it reignited my joy. And when I finally returned to my original series months later, I had fresh energy and perspective that helped me finish the book.

✨ Takeaway: Your creative instincts are worth trusting. If motherhood shifts your direction, let it. Sometimes a detour is exactly what helps you find your way back.

2. Slow, deadline-free writing still counts—and it works

Before motherhood, I loved deadlines. They made me feel productive and focused. But once I became a mom, deadlines became impossible—and honestly, unnecessary.

Life with a toddler means nothing ever goes according to plan. Someone’s always sick, the nap schedule changes, the day job gets intense. Every time I tried to stick to a rigid writing timeline, it only left me feeling behind.

So I stopped setting deadlines altogether. Instead, I committed to steady progress—writing 20 minutes most weekdays, taking breaks when I needed them, and trusting that I’d come back.

At first, that felt strange. Without a finish line, how would I know I was making progress?

But slowly, the book took shape. Scene by scene, page by page, until one day I realized it was ready for my editor.

✨ Takeaway: You don’t need pressure to make progress. You just need consistency, trust, and a commitment to keep showing up. Writing slowly still adds up.

3. Publishing as a mom feels different: more joyful, more grounded

By the time I uploaded this book for publication, I noticed something new: I wasn’t anxious. I wasn’t obsessing over numbers or launch-day sales.

I was just… proud.

In traditional publishing, launch day often feels like a make-or-break moment. But as an indie author, I get to play the long game. I know my books will keep finding readers months and years after release—especially once the next books in the series come out.

That freedom has completely changed how I experience success.

When I hit publish this time, I wasn’t thinking about algorithms or rankings. I was thinking about the joy of holding a story I’d written through nap times, daycare drop-offs, and endless toddler snacks.

✨ Takeaway: Publishing isn’t just about the book—it’s about who you became to finish it.

What this milestone means to me

Finishing and publishing this seventh book reminded me of something I hope every mom hears:

Your creative dreams don’t expire after motherhood.

You might have to write slower. You might write tired, in short bursts, with snacks on the floor and toys scattered around you—but it still counts. It’s still art.

This book is proof that motherhood didn’t take my creativity away; it taught me persistence, patience, and a deeper sense of purpose. It’s also a legacy for my son—one I can hand him someday and say, this is what I made while raising you.

An invitation for you

If you’ve been trying to write a book and feeling like it’s taking forever—like your creative life will start “someday” once things calm down—I want you to know this: it’s possible right now.

You can write your book slowly, imperfectly, joyfully. You can finish, even with a full life.

That’s exactly what I help my clients do inside my 12-month coaching program. We build a writing process that fits into your real life—not an imaginary one.

Click here to book a free consultation and let’s make this the year you finally finish your novel.

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Thank you for being here: for reading these emails, for dreaming about your stories, for caring about creativity in the middle of a busy life.

Every time you open one of my newsletters, you remind me why I do this work. Because writing isn’t just about books—it’s about identity, connection, and coming home to yourself.

What I’m grateful for this year

This year, I’m grateful for stories—the ones I’ve written, the ones I’ve helped others write, and the ones that haven’t been written yet but are waiting patiently in someone’s heart.

I’m grateful for the clients who show up to coaching calls with courage and honesty, even on the hard days.

I’m grateful for the moms who carve out twenty minutes between school drop-off and bedtime to write something just for themselves.

I’m grateful for my son learning new words (there’s so much to discover at 2 years old!), my husband acting as an equal partner in all things parenting, and my own writing making progress this year and culminating in a new book (check out my upcoming pre-order here!).

And I’m grateful for this community—for you—because it means there are people out there still believing in the power of stories.

Your turn

I’d love to know—what are you grateful for this year?

It doesn’t have to be big. Maybe it’s a moment of quiet, a favorite book, or a sentence that surprised you when you wrote it.

Hit reply or leave a comment and tell me one thing you’re thankful for. I’d love to read it.

Wishing you and your family a cozy, joyful Thanksgiving.

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1. “That sounds amazing!”

2. “Wait… what exactly is a book coach?”

And I get it. Coaching can sound mysterious if you’ve never experienced it before.

So today, I want to pull back the curtain and show you exactly what it looks like to work with me: what we focus on, how it feels, and why it works.

Because coaching isn’t just about accountability (though that’s part of it). It’s about clarity, confidence, and finally having someone in your corner who believes in your story as much as you do.

What happens before we start

It all begins with a free consultation call. We talk about your story, your goals, and what’s been getting in your way. Most writers I meet are juggling a lot—kids, jobs, households—and feel guilty for not “doing enough” with their novel.

My goal on that first call isn’t to sell you something. It’s to help you see your story clearly again. I’m there to remind you why you started and what’s actually possible for you.

I love the moment on these calls when I can see the writer relax once they realize someone else sees their story as clearly as they do, and knows they can finish it.

Whether or not we end up working together, you will leave the call with more confidence and direction than you had before.

How coaching actually works

If we decide to work together, we start by building a roadmap for your novel and your writing life.

That roadmap includes:

• A clear plan for where your story is headed (no more getting lost in the middle).

• A writing routine that fits into your real life—not an imaginary one.

• Accountability that feels encouraging, not stressful.

• Regular sessions (every other week) to track your progress, work through blocks, and celebrate wins.

Between sessions, I’m in your corner—reading your pages, giving feedback, helping you untangle plot threads, and reminding you that your story matters.

One of my clients had spent years thinking about his story idea, but never actually getting anything written. After just a couple sessions, he had a clear plan for the story he wanted to tell and was actually writing the first draft. Once he realized he couldn’t brainstorm his way to the finish line, he was excited to get writing.

What coaching feels like

The word I hear most often from clients is relief.

Relief that they’re not doing it alone.
Relief that their book suddenly feels doable.
Relief that they have someone to talk through the hard parts with instead of spinning in self-doubt.

Coaching is a partnership. I bring the structure, the systems, and the big-picture vision. You bring the story, the voice, and the determination to see it through.

Together, we bridge the gap between wanting to write a book and actually finishing one.

Why it works

Most writers try to go it alone for years—reading craft books, joining Facebook groups, watching online workshops—hoping to find the missing piece that finally makes it all click.

But the truth is, writing a novel isn’t a solo sport. It’s vulnerable work. It asks a lot of your time, energy, and heart.

And having someone walk beside you—someone who’s finished books, helped others do the same, and understands what it means to write in the middle of a busy life—changes everything.

That’s what I love most about coaching. Watching a writer shift from “Can I really do this?” to “I am doing this.”

Your next step

If you’ve been spinning your wheels, wondering whether you could actually finish your novel, maybe it’s time for support that fits you.

My 12-month book coaching program is designed to help working moms finally make steady progress on their novels, without guilt, burnout, or overwhelm.

You don’t have to keep trying to figure it out on your own. You just have to take the next step.

Schedule your consultation call today.

Let’s talk about your story, your goals, and what’s possible for you.

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Life has a way of interrupting even the best intentions. Kids get sick, work ramps up, the laundry pile grows taller than your willpower. One day you realize it’s been weeks—maybe months—since you last touched your book (which suckssss!).

And suddenly you’re not just out of your routine. You’re tangled in guilt and doubt.

You might think, What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I stay consistent?

But there’s nothing wrong with you. Falling out of rhythm doesn’t mean you’ve failed, it just means you’re human. Let’s talk about it.

(Last call for my upcoming workshop on November 8, all about finding the time to write as a mom. Register here to join us!)

Why writing routines fall apart

Writing is deeply tied to the rhythm of our lives. When life changes, our creative rhythm naturally shifts too.

The trouble comes when we expect ourselves to keep writing like nothing happened. Instead of adjusting, we try to force our old routine back into a new season. And when it doesn’t work, we blame ourselves.

I had this realization after my son was born. I knew my writing routine was going to need to change, but that didn’t mean I was happy about it! It wasn’t until I learned to accept my reality and get creative instead of frustrated, I was able to make the changes necessary to allow me to write a first draft in 3 months - and keep writing.

The truth is, your writing routine isn’t supposed to stay the same forever. It’s meant to evolve with you.

Step one: Let go of the guilt

Before you try to fix your routine, release the guilt about having lost it.

You’re not behind or lazy. You’re just reorienting to this new season. Guilt doesn’t help you write, it only keeps you stuck in shame.

Try replacing “I should’ve kept writing” with “I get to try something new.” It’s such a simple shift, but it changes everything.

Step two: Start smaller than you think you should

When you’ve been away from your book for a while, it’s tempting to swing big. You plan to write every day or catch up on all the chapters you’ve missed.

But that’s just setting yourself up for burnout.

Instead, start small, so small it feels almost too easy.

• Open your document and reread the last paragraph.

• Set a 10-minute timer and keep your fingers on the keyboard.

• Jot down one idea in your notebook for a future scene.

Momentum grows faster from small, consistent steps than from one big burst of pressure.

One of my clients was overwhelmed by the unexpected emotional depth to his story, and was stuck for weeks. Once we moved past the block, he needed to start small to get back into writing. 10 minute session every day helped him keep a promise to himself and build up the habit of writing again.

Step three: Redefine what “counts”

You don’t have to be typing to be writing. Thinking about your story while folding laundry counts. Making a playlist for your main character counts. Even reading a book that sparks an idea counts.

When you start noticing all the ways writing weaves through your life, it feels less like something you’ve abandoned and more like something you’re always returning to.

Step four: Build support into your comeback

Writing alone takes so much energy, especially when you’re rebuilding your process. It’s easy to slip back into the same old patterns of overwhelm or avoidance.

That’s why having support can make all the difference. Someone to help you find your footing, hold you accountable, and remind you of what you’re capable of.

When I work with clients who’ve lost momentum, we don’t start with massive goals. We start by assessing what’s important to them, and then creating a sustainable rhythm that fits their real lives.

You don’t have to rebuild alone.

Your next step

If you need a gentle nudge back into your writing routine, I recorded a podcast episode about this exact topic: Episode 16 –Why You Need to Start Writing Now.

It’s a quick listen, and it’s full of encouragement to help you start again, without guilt, pressure, or waiting for life to magically calm down.

Whether it’s been a few days or a few months, your story is still waiting for you. You don’t need the perfect time; you just need to start again.

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I’ve seen so many women with brilliant stories inside them hesitate, stall, or give up, not because they weren’t capable, but because they were holding onto myths about what writing “should” look like.

So today, let’s bust three of the biggest writing myths.

P.S. I’m holding a free workshop in early November, about finding the time to write as a mom. Register here to join us!

Myth #1: You need hours of uninterrupted time

The truth? You don’t. Most of my novels were written in small chunks; 10 minutes here, 20 minutes there.

Waiting for a wide-open day means waiting forever. But writing in the cracks of your life adds up faster than you think.

In 2024, I wrote a first draft in 3 months with 20 minutes of writing every weekday. That’s the only time I had to write, with a day job and a one-year-old, and I made it work. I didn’t question or doubt myself, worrying that it wasn’t going to be enough time, or that I couldn’t still prioritize my writing with everything else going on in my life. I just kept moving forward, I got more efficient in the limited time I had (my word count in each session ended up increasing as the weeks passed), and I finished a first draft!

Myth #2: You have to feel inspired first

If you only write when you feel inspired, you’ll write a few beautiful pages…and then stall.

The reality is, inspiration often comes after you start writing, not before. Showing up is what creates momentum.

I don’t feel super inspired every time I sit down to write, but I know that the inspiration ends up coming once I get going. And weeks or months later, once I’m looking back on all the writing I did during a certain time period, I can’t tell the writing that happened when I felt super inspired and motivated, vs the days I had a bit of a headache and could only write for 10 minutes. By the time I get to the end of a book and am ready to publish it, I’ve fallen in love with all the words.

Myth #3: You have to know the whole story before you begin

Some writers are planners. Others discover as they go. But believing you need every detail figured out before you start? That’s a recipe for paralysis.

You can start with what you know and figure the rest out along the way. The important part is beginning.

I used to think I needed to have everything outlined before I started writing, especially because I write mysteries. How can you write a mystery and not know who the killer is first?

But what I’ve found is that I sometimes need to discover the story myself, just like a reader would. I write my first drafts fast, and that means I don’t always have the answers as I’m going. Once I slow down in my edits, I start to fill in the blanks and learn more about my characters—including the fact that the killer was actually someone I didn’t suspect!

I encourage my coaching clients to lay out the foundation of their novel in an outline, but once they start drafting, we don’t stay tied to that outline. I keep us on track by knowing generally where they want to take the story, but if a character goes off-book and wants to head in a different direction, I think it’s better to follow that intuitive path, and then make it all make sense in the edit.

Why these myths matter

When moms believe these myths, they end up waiting for the perfect time, waiting for inspiration, or waiting until they have everything figured out. And that means their books never get written.

The truth is, you don’t need perfection. You need permission to write as you are, where you are.

That’s what I love most about coaching, because it’s about unlearning these myths. It’s about building real habits and real belief in yourself so you can finally see your book finished.

Your next step

So if you’ve been waiting for hours of quiet, waiting for inspiration, or waiting until your plot is airtight—I want you to know, you don’t have to wait. You can begin today, right where you are.

And if you’d like support to make that beginning stick, that’s exactly what my 12-month coaching program is designed for.

Book a free consultation and get a 3-part plan for how I’ll help you write the novel of your dreams, nothing special required.

Let’s unlearn the myths together, and finally make your writing dream real.

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If you’ve ever told yourself, I’ll get back to writing when things calm down, then you’re not alone. But here’s the secret: if you wait for life to be calm, you’ll never write your book.

So instead of waiting, what if you learned how to write through the busy seasons?

Why busy seasons derail us

When routines shift, writing is often the first thing to go. It feels less urgent than the endless to-do list. And honestly, it can feel selfish to carve out time for yourself when there’s so much else to handle.

The holidays are definitely a busy time of year for me, and it can be easy for me to let the writing drop down the to-do list. It feels a little less urgent, and I like the idea of taking a break over the holiday season.

But when the holiday season seems to start in October, and I let it stretch to the end of December (sometimes even the first week of January!), then clearly I’m using it as an excuse to avoid working on my book, probably because I’m at a challenging part of the process (like editing…).

What helps is continuing with my small goals, setting minimums that are perfectly acceptable (20 minutes of writing a day), and making commitments with others to keep me on track (Friday Zoom writing dates with another friend mean I’m likely to show up for my writing at least once a week—and often it extends to other days in the week, too).

What it looks like to keep writing anyway

Writing through busy seasons doesn’t mean writing more; it means writing smarter. That can look like:

• Choosing 20-minute windows instead of waiting for a free afternoon

• Lowering your word count goal so you can actually hit it

• Keeping a simple notebook nearby to capture ideas in the cracks of your day

The past couple of weeks, I’ve been making the commitment to write for 10 minutes on the days that I have to commute into the office. Normally, on those days I don’t feel like I have the energy to write—but even 10 minutes becomes doable when it’s on my list.

Same with the holidays—I’ll probably skip writing on Thanksgiving itself, but the following Friday, when things are slowing down, I can lock myself in my office and set a timer for 10 minutes to get just a tiny bit done. And then back to the leftovers I’ll go!

Why it matters

Every time you write through a busy season, you prove to yourself that writing belongs in your real life, not just in an ideal, quiet life.

And that proof builds momentum. By the time life shifts again, you’re not starting from zero; you’re already moving.

Your next step

If this feels like you right now, I recorded a podcast episode about why 20 minutes is more than enough time to write a novel. It’s the perfect encouragement for this season.

🎧 Listen on Spotify (or wherever you get your podcasts)

Give it a listen the next time you have 20 minutes, maybe even while you’re folding laundry or sitting in the carpool line.

You’ll see just how much is possible, even in your busiest seasons.

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Almost every writer I know, including myself, has wrestled with that question. Doubt is sneaky. It shows up when you open the blank page, when you reread your draft, and even when you daydream about holding your finished book in your hands.

But here’s the thing: doubt doesn’t have to be in charge.

P.S. I’m holding a free workshop in early November, about finding the time to write as a mom. Register here to join us!

Why we doubt ourselves

Doubt shows up for all kinds of reasons:

• Because writing matters to us, and anything that matters feels vulnerable.

• Because we’re juggling so many roles—mom, employee, partner—that writing feels indulgent.

• Because we compare ourselves to published authors and feel like we’ll never measure up.

After having my son 2 years ago, I struggled with my belief that I could get back into my writing. I’d successfully written and published 6 books before my son was born, but once I got pregnant, I paused my writing. And then in those early newborn days, weeks, and months, I wasn’t sure how I could balance my passion for writing with this new mom identity.

It wasn’t until I decided that I could do both, that I then took the actions to prove to myself that I was capable of doing both.

What happens when doubt runs the show

When doubt leads, it usually looks like this:

• You write less, waiting for “proof” that you’re good enough.

• You edit endlessly, never sure your draft is ready.

• You hide your dream, afraid someone will confirm your worst fears.

In other words, doubt doesn’t keep you safe, it keeps you stuck.

What changes when you stop letting doubt lead

Here’s what I’ve seen happen when writers stop centering doubt and start centering belief:

• They claim the title of “writer,” even before they feel ready.

• They write consistently, even in short bursts.

• They trust that their story matters, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s theirs.

Personally, once I claimed the identity of writer, it made it so much easier to make writing a habit. It was the reason I was able to start writing again after having my son, because I knew deep down that I was a writer, and that that identity is worth protecting.

Borrowing belief until it’s your own

The truth is, most of us don’t just wake up one day with unshakable confidence. Belief is something we grow into.

That’s part of my role as a coach: I believe in your story until you believe in it yourself. I help you see progress you might overlook. I remind you of your why when doubt is loud.

And over time, the voice of belief gets stronger than the voice of doubt.

Your next step

If doubt has been running your writing life, you don’t have to stay there. Imagine what the next three months could look like if belief had the louder voice.

The first step is book a consultation call with me, where we talk about your writing challenges, goals, and aspirations, and I share exactly how I’ll help you beat that doubt and finally finish the novel of your dreams.

I’d love to walk with you as you grow into the confidence that you (and your story) deserve.

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The first few chapters feel magical: you’re finally writing the book you’ve dreamed of! You can see your characters and hear their voices, plus you imagine your future readers falling in love with them.

But then, slowly, that energy fades. You’re not sure what happens next. You reread what you wrote last week and think: This isn’t very good. The end feels impossibly far away.

Welcome to the messy middle.

If you’ve ever gotten stuck there, I want you to know you’re not alone. Every writer I’ve ever worked with (and every novel I’ve ever written myself) has passed through this exact stage. It’s not a sign you’re failing, it’s just part of the process.

So let’s talk about why it happens, and what you can do to move through it.

Why the messy middle happens

At the beginning of a project, you’re running on excitement. You don’t need much structure because the momentum is carrying you. But as soon as you get a few chapters in, you hit a new stage of the process:

• The “now what?” stage. The fun scenes are written, but now you need to connect the dots.

• The “everything is terrible” stage. You can suddenly see flaws you missed at first.

• The “life is too busy” stage. Without the early rush of motivation, other responsibilities start winning your time.

Sound familiar?

This is where most writers stop. Not because they aren’t capable, but because no one ever told them this stage was normal.

Strategy #1: Shrink the project

The messy middle feels overwhelming because your brain is trying to hold the entire book at once. Instead, shrink the project down to the next 1-2 steps.

Because my time to write is limited, I often only have a few hours a week to write. During that time, I will focus just on the next scene I’m writing or editing, and do my best not to worry about how to perfect the ending or whether my character’s motivation is totally clear.

If it doesn’t impact the exact scene that I’m working on during that session, I put it out of my mind until I get to that part of the process.

You don’t have to know the whole path to the finish line. You only have to take the next step.

Strategy #2: Expect doubt

One of the hardest parts of the messy middle is the voice in your head that says: “If this were any good, it wouldn’t feel this hard.”

That voice lies.

Doubt is not proof that your book is bad. It’s proof that you’re doing the real work of shaping it.

I always reach a point of doubt once I’ve finished my first draft and am starting the first edit. I’ve got a pile of messy words and I can see how far I am from the finish line of a polished novel, ready to be shared with readers.

But now that I’ve written several books, I know that this point in the process is sticky for me, and I do my best to keep moving forward and ignore the voice of doubt. I always reach a point where the story starts to come together - I just need to keep going to get there.

When you expect doubt, it loses its power.

Strategy #3: Anchor to your why

Motivation fades in the messy middle, but your why for writing this book doesn’t.

• Why does this book matter to you?

• Why is this story worth telling?

• Why does it feel important, even if no one else ever reads it?

Write those answers down and keep them nearby. Because on the days when you’d rather throw your laptop out the window, your why is what brings you back.

You don’t have to white-knuckle it

The biggest myth about writing is that if you were “meant to do it,” you’d just push through on your own. But the truth is, finishing a book is so much easier with support.

That’s one of the reasons I started The Writing Mom Podcast, to give you encouragement and practical tools for every stage of the writing journey. If you’re in the messy middle right now, I recorded an episode all about this exact struggle: why motivation fades after the first few chapters, and how to keep going anyway.

🎧 Listen on Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts!

It’s the pep talk I wish I had when I was writing my first book.

You’ve got this

If you’re stuck in the messy middle, you are not failing. You’re just standing in the exact place where every writer stands. And with the right tools, and the right support, you can get through it.

You don’t have to abandon your draft. You don’t have to wait for the “perfect” season of life. You don’t have to wonder if you’re really cut out for this.

You only have to keep taking the next small step.

And I’ll be here to cheer you on as you do.

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At first, there’s excitement: you finally have an idea you love, maybe even a few chapters drafted. But somewhere along the way, life gets busy, the story gets tangled, and the whole project starts to feel heavier than it should.

You tell yourself: If I were more disciplined, I’d have finished by now. Or: If I really wanted this, I’d make the time.

But here’s the truth: finishing a novel isn’t about sheer willpower or discipline. Writing is creative work, yes, but finishing a book requires a set of learned skills that no one talks about.

That’s why I want to share the three hidden skills that separate the people who finish their books from the ones who leave half-filled notebooks and abandoned Word docs behind.

And I promise, it’s not about working harder.

1. Project management (for creatives)

Most of us are never taught how to manage a big, long-term project like a novel. You might know how to write a scene, but how do you track where you are in the story? How do you know what still needs revising? How do you break a 300-page manuscript into doable steps?

This is project management, and when I say it that way, it might sound unromantic. But in practice, it’s freeing. It means you don’t have to hold the whole book in your head at once. You can trust a system instead.

I’m constantly breaking my novel down into steps:

• writing out a list of scenes and only worrying about one scene at a time

• creating a revision plan and focusing on the biggest issues, like character development or pacing, rather than worrying about sentence-level edits

• tracking word count and time written throughout the first draft, so I can see my progress stacking up

Without some way to track your progress, the book feels endless. With it, you can see exactly what’s left… and exactly what you’ve already done.

2. Emotional resilience

Here’s the part no one prepares you for: writing a novel means facing yourself.

The messy middle will make you doubt everything. You’ll reread pages and cringe. You’ll compare yourself to every author on your bookshelf. You’ll wonder if your story even matters, or if it’s all just a waste of time.

That’s not a sign you’re failing—it’s just part of the process. Which means if you don’t build the skill of emotional resilience, you’ll stop every time things get hard.

Resilience looks like:

• Learning how to expect doubt, instead of fearing it

• Finding ways to stay grounded in your why

• Having support when you want to throw the whole book away

I constantly battle my own self-doubt when I start the first revision, after I’ve finished the first draft. I’ve got a messy pile of words in front of me that need to be turned into something beautiful, and I constantly question my ability to get through that big revision. But each time, I keep moving forward.

This isn’t just mindset, it’s the muscle that lets you keep going even when you’d rather close the laptop forever.

3. Writing inside real life

Most writing advice assumes you have hours of uninterrupted time and a quiet cabin in the woods. But if you’re a mom, you don’t have that. You have school drop-offs, jobs, endless laundry, and a kid who suddenly needs a snack the moment you sit down to write.

That doesn’t mean you can’t finish a novel. It means you need the skill of writing inside real life.

That looks like:

• Recognizing that short bursts of writing add up

• Planning your book around your actual schedule, not an imaginary one

• Releasing the guilt of not doing it “perfectly”

When you build this skill, writing doesn’t fight with your life—it fits into it.

Why these skills matter

The reason so many writers never finish has nothing to do with talent. It’s because no one ever taught them these skills. You don’t just need to know how to write a story. You need to know how to finish a book as a busy human being.

And once you learn those skills? You can apply them to every book you’ll ever write.

That’s exactly what I teach inside my 12-month coaching program. It’s not just about having accountability; it’s about building the tools and resilience to make novel writing sustainable, no matter what life looks like.

Here’s the invitation

If you’ve been trying to write a novel on your own and wondering why it feels so impossible, I want you to hear this: you are not failing. You’re just missing skills that you were never taught.

And I can teach them to you.

In my 12-month book coaching program, you’ll learn how to manage your project, build resilience, and fit writing into your real life. You’ll finish your book (not someday, not “when life calms down”) but within the year, starting from where you are right now.

Click here to book your free consultation call. Let’s make this your year to finally finish your novel.

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