Part of it is because I refuse to believe that something has changed, whether inside or outside me, and I am desperately clinging onto the old routines that got me through THE TIGER AT MIDNIGHT trilogy and my other books. Part of it is me realizing I am fighting a losing battle and that words captured and creativity stoked is worth it, even if I’m not hitting the word counts I used to.

But it is hard being a reformed fast writer. See? Even there, my brain immediately fights against the idea that this is a permanent change. Because it might not be. It might just be a season.

Because I’ve noticed that writing comes in seasons, just as life does. And to pretend that our creativity isn’t beholden to the seasons of life is forcing creativity into a rigidity that feels particularly unfair and honestly, mean-spirited. Not to mention super “optimization and productivity” culture.

I can speak to that because I’d like to think I’m a reformed optimizer. Don’t get me wrong, I will still do research on fifteen different eye creams before settling on one and I still loosely keep track of my steps on my watch, but in a lot of other ways, I’ve stopped “optimizing” everything.

Perhaps its because I just exited a season of life where I had to be so “optimized” and scheduled that I’m viciously fighting back. Or maybe I just got sick of it. Tired of constantly feeling there was another rat race I had to run or goal I was missing out on (and could reach if only I pushed and optimized a little harder). Wanting to feel settled and content for once, exactly where I was, which honestly, is the biggest challenge I think I’ve ever faced.

I think it’s the nature of reformed or reforming perfectionists (and control freaks) to want to plan and prepare for every outcome. Optimization is the tool with which we can scratch that infernal itch. In many ways, it’s a great skill to be able to use and is very useful in many life situation. But like anything, moderation is key.

With creativity, I think even more so—optimization can lead to burn out.

Because creativity is not only output.

It is input and boredom and wandering and obsessing over some tiny, useless detail that may or may not matter for another hundred pages. It is the walk where a plot problem loosens itself. Or the playlist from high school that makes you remember an old memory. It is reading something wildly outside your genre and feeling some odd little door open in your brain with a question behind it. It is living enough life that the work has somewhere to draw from.

And that is where optimization gets tricky for me. Because if I’m not careful, I start trying to optimize those parts too. The restorative walk becomes a step count. Reading becomes a number on Goodreads. Rest becomes recovery with a purpose. Play becomes research. Suddenly even the things meant to refill the well have to justify themselves by being useful.

Which is exhausting.

And also, I think, dangerous for the work.

Unfortunately, I’ve found myself in that place more often than not the past ten years since I started my writing practice (ten! years!).

When every part of the process has to prove its efficiency, there is very little room left for surprise. And so much of writing depends on surprise. Or what I’ve renamed as joy.

There’s a joy in the discovery and the surprise that fuels imagination. And no, I’m not saying you should become a pantser. I’m a rather heavy outliner and I like to know where I’m headed while writing a book. I’m talking about something a little bit more all-encompassing than knowing what your characters’ favorite food is (which is honestly something I’ve never determined beforehand despite being an outliner).

Optimization wants repeatable inputs and predictable outputs, and sometimes writing gives you neither.

That doesn’t mean discipline doesn’t matter. I’m not saying we should all wait around for inspiration while dramatically gazing out windows, though honestly, sometimes that’s exactly what I want to do, especially during a thunderstorm.

Routines matter. Deadlines matter. Showing up matters.

But there is a difference between a routine that supports your creativity and a system that punishes you for being human.

I think that’s the line I’ve been trying to find for some time now.

It starts with identifying the season I’m in, not the one I want to be in or wish desperately I could return to or I’m afraid I’ll never see again.

I wish I could say I’ve fully transcended the need to optimize. I have not. I will absolutely still compare two planners for forty-five minutes and convince myself one of them will change my life. But I am trying, in writing at least, to stop treating every slower day as a problem to solve.

Maybe the work now is not to become the writer I used to be, but to stop treating that version of myself as the only proof that I am serious. Maybe slow writing is still writing. Maybe a season of fewer words is not a failure of discipline, but life asking for a different facet of my attention.

I don’t know if I’ll be as fast of a writer again. Some days, I dearly hope so. I can see the path. Other days, I hope I become something different, maybe even better, than just fast.

Present, curious, less afraid, more joyful. A writer who can make things without turning every part of herself into a machine.

For now, I’m trying to let the words come at the speed they can come. Some days the answer is not a better schedule. It is not a new app, a stricter routine, a shiny spreadsheet, or a higher word count.

Some days the answer is patience.

Which is horrifying, obviously, as a reformed optimizer.

But also, maybe, freeing.

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If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here. I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance.

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

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I opened the document Sunday morning and just sat there, cursor blinking over the last paragraph I wrote, and felt this wave of exhaustion that had nothing to do with how many words I’d written so far or how hard the scene in front of me was. It was the exhaustion of realizing I still have so far to go, and I have no idea if any of this will matter to anyone besides me.

That’s the thing about the middle.

The work doesn’t necessarily get harder, but it definitely starts to feel more uncertain.

When no one cares yet

There’s a particular kind of joy and loneliness that shows up when you’re deep in a project and it’s just... yours. The joy is obvious. This is your new playground and you’re god and you can do whatever you want.

The loneliness is a bit more hidden.

Writing is already a solitary thing and you’re carrying this entire world in your head, these characters, these scenes, this story you believe in enough to keep showing up to it day after day even though no one else knows it exists.

I’ll be at dinner with friends I love and someone will ask what I’m working on and I’ll say “oh, my next book” and I might pitch it and then they’ll say “oh, that’s great!” and then the conversation moves on because what else is there to say? I can’t convey why a particular character choice matters when they don’t know the character yet. I can’t share the small victory of finally getting a chapter to feel right when “right” is something only I can see.

Even if your friends get it, even if they’re writers themselves, they’re not there with you in that seat, at your desk, every day, as you write.

When there’s no proof

The thing is, I can tell that the story is coming together, all of the threads pulling together to be woven, but I still have absolutely no idea if it’s good.

If you’re training for a marathon, you can watch your mile time drop from 10 minutes to 9:30 to 9:00. The progress is measurable and it points toward a finish line that can be quantified.

But writing? Writing gives you word count and that’s about it.

You can’t clock your “scene time” or measure your “character development pace” or know if you’re on track for a publishable draft. You just have to keep going and trust that it’s coming together, even though you have no way to verify that until someone else reads it and tells you, maybe months or years from now, if you were right.

If we’re really being honest and getting to the core of it, the question that loops in the background is really “what if this doesn’t matter?”

What if I finish this draft and revise it and polish it and send it out and no one wants it? What if all this effort, all this love, all this belief I’m holding for something that doesn’t exist yet in any form anyone else can see, what if it adds up to nothing?

That’s the whisper that makes the middle so hard. Not that the work is bad, but that the work might not be enough. That loving something deeply doesn’t guarantee anyone else will love it back.

The brutal part is that I don’t have an answer to that question and honestly? No one really does.

You can’t know if it will be “worth” it while you’re still in it.

Why you keep going anyway

I’m going to tell you what I really think after eight years in publishing and many more spent writing at my desk.

People might tell you that the journey is worth it and they’re not wrong, but that’s sometimes not enough. When the writing is particularly hard and I’m trying to drag my bones to my desk and then I realize have 40K left (I hate middles), here’s what thought actually keeps me going.

If I quit now, I’ll never know.

Because the only thing worse than finishing your draft and having it not work out is not finishing it and spending the rest of your writing life thinking about what it could have been.

Plus, you keep going because you love writing, and even when love isn’t enough, what else are you supposed to do with that love? Put it away? Pretend you don’t care about these characters or this story or this thing you’ve been building in private for months? Deny the creative voice that whispers that this is something?

I don’t know if what I’m working on right now is going to be good enough. I won’t know for months, maybe longer.

What I can tell you is that I love it, that I’m deeply invested in it, and that I’m also tired by it in a way that feels inevitable when you’ve been carrying something for a long time without knowing where it’s going to land.

But I’m still showing up, even on the days when enthusiasm isn’t doing much to help, because the work deserves a chance. And because this is part of being a creative, isn’t it? We dream up worlds, stories, and futures.

What are you still showing up for, even if it’s uncertain?

Here is where my friends and family would certainly step in and correct me and if I’m being fair to myself, I would as well. I did release a book this year (Maya in Multicolor!), but i't’s also a year that felt like 3 steps forward and then 10 steps back.

That’s the thing about being an author that no one really talks about, that the journey after publication is just as much of a fight and a slog as the journey to your debut book. Sometimes it’s as simple as simply struggling to write the next book, sometimes it’s more existential. Rejection is just as prevalent after debut as it was before and no one tells you that.

All of this has led to me feeling as if I’m hiking up a long trail. Constantly.

I think for a long time I believed that there was a summit to this entire journey. I don’t think I ever wrote it down or said it out loud, but somewhere in the architecture of how I thought about this career, this creative life, I believed there was an endpoint. A place where you plant a flag and catch your breath and get to just... be there.

Arrived. Established. Done climbing. Bag full of trail mix that never runs out.

The first book would be the summit. Then it wasn’t, so maybe it was the second book, or finishing the Tiger at Midnight trilogy, or some other marker I kept moving further up the trail.

Here I am after five published books and I’m here to tell you that there’s always another mountain to climb. The view from the summit, it turns out, is just of another mountain.

I don’t know why this keeps surprising me. You’d think after enough times, the pattern would sink in. But there’s something about the human brain, or maybe just my brain, that keeps believing this peak is the real one. That after this climb, I’ll get to rest.

Sometimes you know you’re climbing. You chose it. You laced up the boots, studied the route, packed your bag. That kind of hard is tolerable, even when it’s brutal, because it’s yours. You signed up for the challenge.

But sometimes a mountain just... appears.

You wake up one day and there it is, blocking the path you thought you were on. A mountain you didn’t agree to. A mountain you didn’t pack for.

That’s what these past six months have felt like as life hit me harder than it had in awhile (and that’s saying a lot given the last few years). I could feel the daily hike toward creativity getting harder, which only made me feel like I was falling even further behind in that longer trek to that mystical mountain peak.

There’s a specific exhaustion that comes from this kind of climbing. It’s different from the tired you feel when you choose the challenge because this one comes with a side of why.

Why this. Why now. Why, when I was already so tired.

But the cruelest version isn’t the surprise mountain. It’s the false summit.

You’ve been climbing for hours, your legs are screaming, you’re out of water and sweaty and then, there it is. The top. You can see it so you push through the next brutal stretch, lungs burning, muscles aching, and you reach it, and then…

It’s just a ridge.

The real summit is miles away, still obscured by clouds. You weren’t even close.

This is the one that gets me. The surprise mountains are hard, but at least they’re honest about what they are. The false summit makes you feel like a fool, like you should have known better than to hope.

I used to think stopping was the same as failing. That if you sat down on the trail, you’d never get back up. That the only way through was through, always, no matter what.

I’m not sure I believe that anymore.

Sometimes sitting down is the only thing that keeps you on the mountain at all.

I’m not even sure what that means yet. But I think that’s what I’m circling around here, that by thinking of creativity as a mountain to summit, I’ve been thinking about it all wrong.

So why do we keep climbing?

This is the part where I’m supposed to have an answer. Something about passion, or purpose, or the stories that live inside us demanding to be told. And maybe that’s part of it.

But I think the honest answer is messier than that. It’s stubbornness and love and habit and the terrifying inability to imagine a life where we don’t do this, we don’t write. It’s the way a blank page still feels like possibility, even after all the times it’s wrecked me.

I wish I could tie this up neatly. Give you the three steps to summit any mountain, the mindset shift that makes it all manageable, the reframe that turns exhaustion into fuel.

But I don’t have that yet. What I have is one simple statement I’m holding close.

I’m still here.

Still climbing, or maybe just starting to climb again. Still looking up at a peak I can’t quite see, unsure if it’s real or another ridge. Maybe that’s the actual skill we’re building, all this time.

Not how to reach summits, but how to be on the mountain, in the middle, with no peak in sight, with tired legs and an uncertain map, and somehow keep going anyway.

I’m curious: where are you on your mountain right now?

Are you climbing, resting, discovering a new mountain? I’d love to hear down in the comments.  💕

Support my writing

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here. I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance.

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

Website | Tiktok | Instagram |

Get your limited edition set here

The Tiger at Midnight has always had a special place in my heart and the more I’ve traveled and met readers, I’ve realized it has a special place in your hearts as well.

We need stories about fierce girls who refuse to apologize for their sharp edges, about love that grows in impossible places, about the courage it takes to question the stories we’ve been told about ourselves.

I wrote that story six years ago and it still resonates with so many people. This is my thank you to everyone who has read and championed the series for all these years. 💕

If you’ve been waiting to dive into Esha and Kunal’s world—with dangerous cat and mouse games, where magic runs wild through ancient jungles, where every choice costs something precious—this is your moment.

More details about this set:

⚔️ Custom design and sprayed edges by @bookish_signs!
⚔️ All books are signed, personalization at request
⚔️ Pickup at Steamy Lit Con (10/31-11/1)

For those who aren’t attending @steamylitcon, I haven’t forgotten you! More to come soon.

Get your limited edition set here 🐯

Support my writing

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here. I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance.

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

Website | Tiktok | Instagram |

I needed to rest, to play, to find joy, but it took me a while to realize that. So here’s me telling you.

You need to rest. To play, to find joy.

Not the kind of play that's disguised productivity, where you experiment with a new writing technique because it might make your work better. Not the kind of rest that's justified by how much you accomplished before taking it. Just rest. The kind that serves no purpose except that you're tired and your soul feels wrung out and you need to remember what it feels like to exist without producing anything.

I used to think rest was something I earned. Finish the chapter, then you can watch a movie. Hit your word count, then you can take a walk and listen to your favorite podcast. Finish the draft, then perhaps a weekend doing something fun. But somewhere along the way, I started measuring my worth by how little rest I needed, how long I could push through, how much I could create even when running on empty. I started seeing every moment not spent writing as time stolen from my craft, as if joy itself was a betrayal of my creative ambitions.

The thing about being a writer is that you can never turn it off. Your brain becomes this machine that's always processing, always looking for the story angle, always turning lived experience into material. And yes, that's part of the magic of this work, but it's also exhausting in a way that's hard to explain to people who don't live inside their own heads for a living.

Yesterday I spent the morning out in the sun with a loved one, eating, wandering, exploring. For three hours, I didn't think about my manuscript once. I wasn't collecting material or observing dialogue patterns. I was just having fun, the pure kind. When I sat down to write in afternoon, something had loosened inside me, some tension I didn't realize I'd been carrying.

Rest and play aren’t the antithesis of creativity. All those ideas we chase so desperately when we're grinding and pushing and forcing the work? They're usually waiting for us in the quiet spaces we never give ourselves permission to inhabit. All that joy we're trying to capture on the page? It has to live in us first. We can't write convincingly about wonder and connection and the full spectrum of human experience if we're not actively experiencing those things ourselves.

Maybe you need to hear this, because I did. You're allowed to spend a Saturday doing something completely unrelated to writing and call it necessary. You're allowed to go to concerts and museums and parties not because they might inspire your work but because they inspire you as a human being. You're allowed to have interests and passions and relationships that exist independent of your creative identity. You're allowed to take a week off from your work in progress because you're tired, not because you've earned it.

Your creativity doesn't owe anyone consistency. It doesn't have to show up on schedule or perform on command. It's allowed to hibernate and wander and come back changed.

This isn't giving up. It’s how you remember why you started writing in the first place. Not because you had to, but because somewhere inside you, you wanted to play with words and worlds and imagine.

What would it look like to rest without guilt today? What brings you joy that has nothing to do with your writing at all?

Support my writing

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here. I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance.

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

Website | Tiktok | Instagram |

1. Read your book

2. Cry

Yes, I’m being facetious, but really am I?? 💀

Actually though, what happens after you write “The End” on the first draft? Or second, third, etc?

If you're like me, your relationship with revision probably falls somewhere between "ok, this might be fun" and "I never want to look at this book again."

But after years of wrestling with manuscripts, I’ve learned a few things. So here’s how I get over that initial hump and start revising a book.

The pause

Every writing guide will tell you to let your manuscript rest, to put it away and give it space. Annoying advice given that you probably know exactly what’s wrong with your book by the end of your draft. But they're right, even if the advice sounds infuriatingly simple.

Distance is a writer's best editing tool. Not craft books, not beta readers, not even excellent coffee—though all of these help. Distance gives you something more precious: the ability to forget.

You need to forget the sentence you rewrote seventeen times at midnight. The scene that made you cry while writing it. The clever turn of phrase you're secretly (or not so secretly) proud of. You need to forget just enough that when you return, you can see what's actually on the page, not what you intended to put there.

My tip here is to take all the ideas you have for revision and write them down into a list, but resist acting on it. Really, give yourself a waiting period. This has become harder as being on deadline isn’t always conducive to a Pause. But if you’re not on deadline or you have the time, take it.

Instead of diving back into a too-familiar story, I do other things. I read books on my TBR that have nothing to do with my story, I watch old and new films, I write terrible poetry that no one will ever see. I live my life.

The magic number seems to be different for everyone. Stephen King says six weeks. I usually last three before the itch becomes unbearable. You'll find your own rhythm, but the key is to wait until you've forgotten enough to be surprised by your own story.

The first (second) date

When it's finally time to return to your manuscript, it’s honestly like a first date. You're nervous. You're hopeful. You're prepared to be either delighted or deeply disappointed. It’ll probably be a mixture of both.

Over the years I realized there’s always a sort of inertia for me in starting a revision so my tried and true ritual has started to be something very simple. Journaling. It helps me sort through my emotions and fears around a revision, lay out my objectives, and generally get my head in order.

Some people love revision and while I don’t hate it, it can sometime feel very daunting, especially if the book needs an overhaul. (I have been here way too many times recently).

Then I start my re-read. Something that has been working for me recently is to change the format of reading a draft, especially if it’s a story I’ve been working on for a while, like Codex (3+ years, save me).

For this round of revision, I sent myself my draft to my phone and ended up reading it on my phone like an ebook as I subway-ed around New York City one week. It was the first time in a long time that I really enjoyed my story and started to see what it could be, not just the sentences that were a little off or the details I had missed, but the entire thing. As if it were a real book.

The hardest rule is to read without fixing. I keep a list of notes, digital and in my notebook, but I'm only allowed to record observations, not solutions.

My notes sometime look like this:

• Chapter 3 drags

• Sonia would never say this

• This is confusing, make it make sense!!

• LOVE this moment (equally important to note)

The urge to edit as you go is overwhelming. Your fingers will itch for your keyboard. You'll think, "Just this one sentence, it'll only take a second."

Don't.

Think of yourself as a reader in a bookstore who picked up this novel.

Would you keep reading after chapter one? Where would you start skimming? What makes you turn the page? That is what you’re trying to get a feel for on the first read-through.

The wilderness

After that first read, you'll have a list full of observations and, likely, this is when you’ll want to cry. Your book is both better and worse than you remembered. This is normal. This is good, actually. It means you can see it clearly.

Next comes my favorite part, creating the revision plan.

First, I make a book roadmap, which is where I reverse outline the book (as it actually is, not what I wish it was) chapter by chapter or scene by scene into an Excel sheet. This is so I can get a bird’s eye view of the book.

Then I’ll go through each chapter and ask myself a few questions:

1. What is this chapter trying to do?

2. Is it succeeding?

3. Does it need to exist?

That third question is the killer. Sometimes the answer is a brutal no. Sometimes it's "yes, but not here in this spot." Sometimes it's "yes, but it's trying to do too much and needs to be split up."

Then, I write myself a checklist and start to organize everything into Add/Change/Remove. I’m still not writing solutions yet, just making chaos into a plan.

And the beautiful thing with doing that is the revision no longer seems overwhelming. It's just a to-do list. A very long, extremely detailed to-do list, but manageable nonetheless.

The work ahead is still monumental. But you're not facing a mysterious mess anymore. You're facing a series of specific, fixable problems.

Next post, I'll share how I tackle the actual revision and how I start to think about solving those book problems!

What are your favorite revision tips? Do you use a book roadmap?

Support my writing

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here. I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance.

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

Website | Tiktok | Instagram |

Getting even a little bit of space makes it so that I can immediately spot what’s working, what’s not, where the prose needs some work or the character arcs need to be strengthened. But one of the main things I look for in that initial read is pacing, and as a result, how it feels to read the book.

I’m sure all writers have a picked up a book that lost them somewhere halfway through. The premise was great, intro pages were explosive and then…something just careened off a cliff. The exciting adventure feels like a slow, plodding slog and you feel like Samwise rather than Frodo.

This is what we call a saggy middle. Kind of like a soggy bottom, if you’re a Great British Bake Off fan, but a lot more fixable once identified.

Most saggy middles aren't about weak characters or boring scenes, they're actually about weak scaffolding. Stories are about change and without a big change in the middle, the entire thing can unravel.

The Act 2 problem nobody talks about

The thing about Act 2 isn't just the middle of your story. It's the workhorse carrying the entire narrative. In a traditional three act story structure, Act 2 comprises roughly 50% of your story, while Acts 1 and 3 each handle about 25%.

This isn't arbitrary. Your first act establishes stakes and gets readers invested. Your third act delivers payoff and resolution. But your second act? It has to develop characters, escalate conflict, deepen relationships, explore themes, AND keep readers engaged for half of the book.

That's an enormous structural burden, and it's why so many otherwise solid stories collapse in the middle. You want to keep building that tension, layer by layer, step by step, like a rollercoaster.

Why structure matters more than you think

Story structure is actually the skeleton that holds your story upright (I believe V.E. Schwab has a wonderful video on the idea of a story skeleton). Without strong bones, even the most beautiful prose and compelling characters will collapse under their own weight.

The middle chapters fail when writers treat Act 2 like a bridge, something to get through, between the exciting setup and the thrilling climax. But Act 2 isn't filler. It's where your story lives and breathes and proves itself worthy of a reader's time.

Enter the midpoint: your story's best friend

This is where midpoints become absolutely crucial. A strong midpoint, a major plot beat that happens roughly halfway through your story, isn't just another plot point. It's a structural pillar that holds up everything around it.

Think of the midpoint in Pride and Prejudice when Elizabeth reads Darcy's letter and realizes she's been completely wrong about him. These aren't just random events—they're strategic structural moments that completely reshape the second half of the story.

A solid midpoint should fundamentally shift something in your story. It might be new information that changes everything, a major victory that becomes a devastating loss, or a revelation that flips the protagonist's understanding of their situation, but whatever it is, it results in major change.

The structural save

When your middle chapters start to sag, the problem is usually one of three things:

Lack of escalation: Your conflicts aren't building on each other. Each scene should add pressure to the previous one, like stacking dominoes that are getting progressively taller. Think about the stakes for the story and build off of that.

Missing midpoint: Without that crucial structural pillar, your second act has nothing to lean on. It just... wobbles around until readers get bored and put the book down. A midpoint reversal or change indicates that something in the story (and the character) has shifted.

Unclear story spine: You've lost track of the central question driving your narrative forward. What is this story fundamentally about? If you can't answer that in one sentence, your readers are probably lost too. Some of the symptoms of this are too many side quests (“fetch quests”) or episodic storytelling.

One final thought

There are so many different ways to look at act structure—three acts, four acts, five acts, the Hero's Journey, Save the Cat beats—and honestly, I have some favorite methods I'll dive into in future posts. But regardless of which structural framework you use, the principle remains the same: your middle chapters need intentional architecture.

This is true whether you outline or not because even pantsers will eventually need to revise and think about the reader experience. Whether you introduce it earlier in your drafting or when you’re revising, structure is there to do the job of guiding your readers through your story.

I also think there’s a lot to say about the midpoint as an essential pillar in a character arc as well. If you’re interested in that, let me know down below!

Leave a comment

I have tons to say about story structure and am kind of a nerd about it. 🤓

Support my writing

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here. I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance.

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

Website | Tiktok | Instagram |

It was also a week with some publishing movement that (fingers crossed) becomes something real. Please send me good vibes!

I’ll admit writing has fallen by the wayside, not just here but in general. I’m also re-learning my rhythms after spending six months of my job sabbatical focused on writing and my own creative process.

I learned some not-so-great things about myself and how I’ve created and wrote over the past 8 years. My tendency to sprint and rush ahead, my inability to rest, my constant brushes with burn out (and one bad bout in 2020-2021). But I’ve gotten to the point where I can acknowledge where I’ve been and what I’ve done and also see that it might not get me to the next point on my journey.

What got me here won’t get me there.

That phrase has been said before and I’ve heard it in many contexts, which I find mildly hilarious because if it’s so accepted why is it so hard to internalize?? That’s me, asking for me.

I think as writers we tend to see that one “process” worked out that one time and then keep hitting it over and over. If other things can be systemized and made into processes, why not books? Or screenplays, short stories, etc.

I’ve written before about creativity not being a factory but a garden.

There's something almost paradoxical about how we try to systematize the inherently unpredictable nature of creative work. We want guarantees in a space that's defined by uncertainty.

Ouch. Just writing that made me wince because for most of my life (and even now if I’m being honest) I’ve hated the idea of uncertainty. I’ve always identified as a control freak, but the good kind. Someone who takes their future into their own hands and builds the world they desire. It’s also the dream we’re fed here in America, that you can build whatever you dream.

I don’t think that’s necessarily wrong, but it’s probably the wrong model to put on your creative aspirations, which is something I can say because this is what I’ve been grappling with for the past six months.

I'm finding that the discomfort of this transition period—between my sabbatical self and my working self—is actually the point. It's in this messy middle that I'm being forced to question my assumptions about productivity, creativity, and what it means to "succeed" as a writer.

During my sabbatical, I had the luxury of time stretching before me. Now, with my new job, that landscape has changed and rather than trying to squeeze my old processes into this new reality (which would lead me back to burnout), I'm trying to approach this with curiosity instead of frustration.

What does sustainable creativity actually look like?

Maybe it's less about finding the perfect system and more about developing an adaptable relationship with our creative selves. Sometimes we sprint, sometimes we rest, sometimes we work in short, concentrated bursts, and sometimes ideas unfold slowly over weeks.

Returning to the time where I could write for hours, thousands upon thousands of words, would also require a lot of other things to be true that I’ve very glad aren’t true. I’ve gained skills as a writer that, by nature, slow down my process because I know where a plot might go wrong or a character beat isn’t working or my opening chapter sucks and I need to re-imagine it.

I'm trying to be gentler with myself these days. To recognize that my creative practice isn't separate from the rest of my life, that it's interwoven with my job, my relationships, my physical health. When one shifts, the others must adjust too. This journey is a marathon, no matter what publishing tries to impose on you.

So as I navigate this new chapter, I'm letting go of the myth that I can simply replicate what worked before. Instead, I'm embracing the discomfort of not knowing exactly how to balance everything yet. There's wisdom in that uncertainty if I'm brave enough to stay with the discomfort.

Perhaps the real lesson here isn't about finding the perfect process at all, but about developing a relationship with uncertainty that isn't defined by fear. To see the blank page not as a problem to be solved but as a field of possibilities. To trust that showing up imperfectly and consistently might lead to more interesting places than executing flawlessly on a predetermined plan.

Perfection is boring, isn’t it?

I'm still figuring this out, this dance between structure and freedom, between the life I've built and the art I want to make. But I'm finding some peace in the knowledge that the uncertainty itself might be the point.

How do you navigate transitions in your creative life? Do you adapt your practices when life shifts?

P.S. in honor of everything I wrote above, these newsletters might shift to Sundays!

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If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here. I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance.

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

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And the thing is, I could. Maybe I should. But I’m not going to force it this time. There’s a project waiting for me to get back to it and two more I’m brainstorming, but they’ll be there when I’m ready.

It’s a truth that took me years to accept that not writing is actually an essential part of writing. The time between projects isn't failure—it's a necessary phase of the creative cycle.

I’m starting to think of my creativity as a river rather than a tap that's either on or off. Sometimes it flows directly through writing and other times, it needs to meander and explore before converging into my next project.

After some reflection, I feel that a large part of why my creativity has felt like such a dry well recently has because what I’ve need has changed (as I wrote about here and here) but also because I naturally did things before that kept my writing brain going that, honestly, I never really acknowledged.

So, in honor of my list-loving brain, I’ve started to actually write it down and to think about breaks more intentionally.

Devour

This is my favorite part of not actively writing—I get to consume!! Not mindless scrolling (which I’m guilty of doing), but deliberately feeding my brain diverse and interesting stuff. Documentaries about random things that interest me, a deep dive into pop icon branding, 17th century German politics, whatever.

If it captures my attention, I’m consuming it. I might even go so far as to give myself a checklist of things I’ve been meaning to read and watch and listen to because it’s so easy to get distracted by whatever is flashing bright and trying to grab your attention (ahem, TikTok).

Observe

During intense writing periods, my focus often narrows into whatever I’m working on right there and then. I can develop really strong tunnel vision, which is great for getting things done but really cuts me off from what fuels my creativity in the first place. But I'm now deliberately widening it again and really trying to take in more from a sensory perspective. Really be aware of my surroundings

Like—

• Noticing how light fills up a space, how it transforms

• Listening to the sound of ocean waves and taking in their lack of pattern (despite what you think)

• Collecting sensory details, turning them into prose and playing with the words in my mind

My current fixation is silence. The silence of an empty house versus an empty beach, the silence between people who've run out of things to say versus those who don't need words between them.

Live a little

With this revision submitted, I'm taking a few days to live again—having coffees with new friends in new places, saying yes to my or other people’s whims (within reason), trying something new I’ll probably fail at (ceramics??).

These experiences aren't direct research, but they maintain momentum by expanding my understanding of being human—the raw material of all writing.

Journal

This is a big one that I’m trying to get back into because when I have a creative block I’ve usually realized that it’s because I can’t hear my own voice. For me, there’s no better way to hear my voice than to write it out, whether that’s a pretty journal or my notes app.

Words are how I’ve always interpreted the world. By allowing myself time for free writing and just playing or complaining or reflecting or processing or dreaming of something new, I’m carving out space to hear my voice again.

None of what I write is meant for anyone's eyes but mine. Its value isn't in the product but in the process.

Rest (actually)

I'm terrible at this one, but I’m working on it!

Real rest isn't checking email in bed when you wake up (email is my nemesis) or half-watching Netflix while scrolling on your phone. It's letting your mind truly wander or truly quiet. I’m finding that this one is often hard to do at home without really prioritizing it, but it can me as simple as letting yourself get bored, making sure you get to bed on time, or finding moments to laugh with people you love.

Find your rhythm

My biggest lesson this year is that creative momentum isn't a constant forward motion, no matter how much I want it to be. It’s cyclical, seasonal, somewhat mercurial, but still something that can be captured.

What about you? How do you approach the spaces between writing projects? Tell me how you fill your creative well in between projects!

P.S. If you know someone who just finished a project and might be feeling that "should be writing" guilt, consider sharing this with them. Sometimes we all need permission to honor our creative rhythms. 💕

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If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here. I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance.

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

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Five books published, and here I was, feeling like a complete beginner again. My tea had gone cold, my timer ignored long ago. The rituals that once carried me through draft after draft now felt like empty gestures, the creative equivalent of muscle memory without the muscle.

‘This is what it’s like coming back from a break’ is what I told myself. But really, I’ve been re-learning how to write for a while.

Five published books (and 10+ written) into this writing career, and I'm finally learning that different seasons require different rituals.

When I wrote my first book, my creativity felt like an unstoppable current. It kept me up at night and I could feel the story pouring out of me. I wrote with the confidence of someone who didn't know how much they didn't know. My rituals then were dramatic—late nights, feverish typing, the romantic chaos of ‘art’.

Book two came with expectations. Book three with deadlines during the beginning of COVID. Book four with a new genre and new anxieties. By book five, I realized the well was running dry. Not because I had less to say, but because I had forgotten how to listen.

It's strange how achieving your goals can distance you from the very thing that brought you there. The industry machinery—the cyclical rejection, the incessant admin, the social media of it all—had slowly replaced the small, quiet moments that once fed my writing practice.

So I began again this month. Not with grand gestures, but with paying attention.

I heard a song I hadn’t heard in a while, a singular lyric sticking with me in a way it never had before. It cracked open a character I've been struggling to understand for months. I wrote three pages in my notes app. It happened again at a wedding, where I hastily tried to capture a momentary feeling, a thought, that had coursed through me as I watched two people commit to each other. A new scene popped up in my head for a story idea I’ve been percolating for years.

Then, while walking the same route I always take, I spotted a red poppy growing through a crack in the sidewalk. Its resilience—the sheer audacity of insisting on existence in a concrete world—made me think of what it meant to be resilient, to be human. I took a photo not to post, but to remember.

This wasn’t how I thought I’d get back into writing, but it’s what happened.

Life is harder now in ways I couldn't have anticipated when I signed that first book contract. The world's weight feels heavier. And yet, stories still want to be told. Characters still whisper. The work remains.

So I've built new rituals.

I keep an '“Ideas" note on my phone—a collection of overheard conversations, strange signs, lyrics that stop me in my tracks. There’s no pressure to use them but collecting those little bits of my day, of wonder, allows me to remember that there are still worlds I want to explore in my imagination.

I've reclaimed the first hour of my day. Before emails, before news, before the world's noise, I sit with a cup of tea and my journal. Some days it stays blank. Others I scribble for a few moments and then jump to my laptop.

I've learned to recognize what creativity looks like in fallow periods. Sometimes it's not writing at all. It's repotting plants with my husband or cooking a complicated, new meal or listening deeply to a friend's story. These are all acts of observing life, of living.

For me, the myth of the creative lightning strike has been replaced by the truth of the quietly opened door. Creativity doesn't arrive dramatically. It slips in through the smallest openings we create for it.

What are your rituals in this season of your creative life? How have they changed from where you began?

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If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here! I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance.

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

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Instead, I found myself staring at a scene I've rewritten seven times, wondering why the words on the page still felt like they belonged to someone else. Not to my characters. Certainly not to me.

The dialogue was stiff, the pacing was off, and no amount of tinkering was making it better. Each version somehow was worse than the last with dialogue more wooden than my coffee table and descriptions that sounded like a how-to manual for a fantasy forest. My document history looked like the crime scene of a slow-motion creative/mental breakdown.

An hour later, fueled by nothing but stubbornness and cold tea, I did something that felt wildly reckless at that moment, something I’ve (honestly) never done before.

I selected the entire scene and deleted it.

Whoosh. Gone. Bye.

The blank space was terrifying at first. A black hole of despair where I almost ctrl+Z’d the whole thing.

But then, in that moment of digital emptiness, I started writing again. Not from my color-coded outline or my character notes. Not from the safe, predictable choices I had been making. I wrote it from memory, from instinct. From the core truth of what needed to happen.

Suddenly, the words flowed. The dialogue clicked. The characters felt real. When I looked up later, the scene was alive again. Messy and imperfect, yes, but finally breathing. Not because I had forced it, but because I had let go of the version that wasn’t working.

When the words aren't working, sometimes the bravest thing isn't to keep chiseling away at them. It's to let them go.

But if the delete key feels too much like skydiving without checking you have a parachute, here are some gentler approaches:

1. Rewrite from memory. Open a new document (or grab a notebook) and rewrite the scene without looking at the old version. You’ll instinctively keep the good parts and lose the dead weight.

2. Change the perspective. Certain scenes from my current manuscript refused to cooperate until I switched from third person to first, just as an experiment. I'm not keeping it that way, but it unlocked something essential I couldn't see before.

3. Handwrite it. There's something about the physical act of writing that bypasses the overthinking part of my brain. When I'm truly stuck, I grab my notebook and suddenly find myself writing lines I wouldn't have discovered while typing.

4. Talk it out loud. I've explained plot problems to my houseplants, my coffee mug, and to my (very confused at that point) husband. Something about verbalizing the scene helps me realize what's missing. I’ve heard voice notes work too but I personally need someone/something on the other side.

5. Walk away. No, seriously. Go for a walk, take a shower, wash dishes, whatever. Your brain will work on the problem while you’re not looking. (If the answer arrives mid-shampoo, I’m sorry)

When a piece of writing isn’t coming to life, it’s usually not because you need to fix it—it’s because you need to trick your brain into seeing it differently.

So if you’re feeling stuck, here’s your permission slip: stop trying to fix it.

Just do something different. The words will come back. Probably stronger, probably faster.

And if all else fails? Well, there’s always Undo.

Have you ever had to delete something you've worked hard on? What's your version of the reset button when the words aren't working?

Support my writing

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here! I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy, a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic, and a college springtime romance .

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

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It feels so perfect that the launch date is right before Holi, one of my favorite Hindu festivals and one of Maya’s as well.

MAYA IN MULTICOLOR centers around Maya and Nishant planning (and revitalizing) their college’s Holi festival—and it’s Maya’s first chance at a new, fresh start after a disastrous first semester of college. But of course there’s Nishant, who doesn’t quite see things the same as her, who pushes her to question her firmly held, more traditional beliefs and to evolve them.

Holi is around the beginning of spring here in the northern hemisphere and it marks the transition from the short, dark days of winter into the bold, sun-drenched days of spring.

A rebirth after a fallow period.

That’s Maya’s story (and Nishant’s, can’t forget him!!) and I’m so glad I get to share it with you today.

P.S. I’m having a book launch event!

I’ll be in conversation with Kat Cho at Books of Wonder tonight to launch my book! Event starts at 6 PM—come hang out with us, we’re lots of fun!

RSVP here (or just show up).

Buy Maya in Multicolor from your favorite bookstore!

Buy Maya from Book of Wonder

Buy Maya in Multicolor from Bookshop

Buy Maya in Multicolor from B&N

Buy Maya from The Ripped Bodice

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Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

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Sometimes things take time. The world we’re in now moves at an almost frenetic pace and we feel, as artists, that we have to match it. I say this as someone who used to pride herself on being able to write fast and produce a lot, who had endless wells of energy and ideas to pull from. That’s simply not the case anymore, and it’s been a real lesson in un-learning and re-learning what I need now.

Take this book I’ve been working on. I could write it faster, I’m sure. But I’m not, because I have a book launch next week and then international travel after and its not like my personal life has slowed down at all in the midst of all this writing.

The world won’t stop for you, so you need to stop for yourself. For your art. For the creativity inside you that wants to come to life, if only you gave it enough space and time and silence to do so.

We've internalized this notion that creativity must be efficient, productive, quantifiable. But the books that have most changed me and effected me the most as a reader weren't written in a breathless sprint. They were crafted with intention, with space for the author to wander down unexpected paths, to double back, to sit in silence when necessary.

So I'm giving myself permission to write slow right now. To trust that this story will be here for me even if I take my time and value myself as much as my productivity.

Maybe you need this reminder too, so here it is.

Your creativity isn't a factory.

It's a garden – sometimes dormant, sometimes blooming, always alive with possibility. Honor its seasons.

What season is your creative garden in right now? Have you ever given yourself permission to slow down? Let me know below. 🌸

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here! I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy and a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic.

My newest book, MAYA IN MULTICOLOR is out NEXT WEEK!! You can add it on Goodreads here and preorder your copy of MAYA here.

Support my writing

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

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I’m thrilled to announce that I’m partnering with The Ripped Bodice (*scream*) to offer signed and/or personalized preorders of Maya in Multicolor!

We’re closing this offer on March 10th, the day before the book releases, so I can make sure I get everything signed and shipped off before I jet off across the globe to New Zealand (more to come on that).

AND! AND!

Please come hang out with me as we launch Maya in Multicolor with a little release party at Books of Wonder on March 11th at 6pm. 🥳

I’ll be in conversation with the lovely Kat Cho, New York Times Bestselling author of Once Upon A K-Prom and all-around awesome person.

I’m changing things up and plan to have some fun games and trivia, so if that’s your vibe and you’re in New York City, stop by!

As always, I’m so appreciative of your support—it’s what let’s me keep writing. If you can preorder or request a copy of MAYA IN MULTICOLOR at your library, I’m ever so grateful. 💕

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here! I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy and a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic.

My newest book, MAYA IN MULTICOLOR is out 3/11/2025. You can add it on Goodreads here and preorder your copy of MAYA here.

Support my writing

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

Website | Tiktok | Instagram |

Have you ever abandoned a book halfway through, not quite sure why it failed to grab you?

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, especially after analyzing story structures recently for a new project. I came to a theory and a conclusion.

Weak character motivation is a story killer. Without a burning desire driving your protagonist forward, even the most beautifully written story will sputter and die. Motivation is a character, plot, and thematic engine for your book, so let’s dig into it.

What makes a character motivation compelling?

Through my recent re-reads of favorites, I found that every compelling character has a motivation (on page) that has these three things:

1. It’s personal:

   1. Take Katniss Everdeen. Sure, she wants to survive the Hunger Games. But what drives her every action? Protecting her sister. Coming home to her family. That's specific. That's primal. That's something we feel in our gut.

2. It’s emotional:

   1. I'll give you an example I love: Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender. On the surface, he's hunting the Avatar. But dig deeper, and you'll find a wounded son desperate to win back his father's love. That raw emotional need? That's what makes his story unforgettable.

3. It offers real challenges:

   1. Look at Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. Her desire to marry for love becomes powerful because everything in her society pushes against it and yet, she wants it and that motivation shapes the entire story.

This leads me to think of three questions that you can ask yourself while revising your book or brainstorming:

1. What does my character want?

   1. I mean really want, deep down. When Benjamin Gates hunts for treasure in National Treasure, he's not just chasing some buried treasure (even though he is). He's trying to prove his entire family aren’t hacks after years of being painted that way.

2. What's standing in their way?

   1. Let’s keep going with National Treasure. He’s got plenty of threats from all around—his former partner has turned on him, he has the police breathing down his neck, and he’s not sure if he can trust his newfound partner Abigail.

3. What happens if they fail?

   1. Ben is fighting for his heritage, his identity, his place in the world. Oh, also, a lot of history itself could be lost and that’s a big deal to a historian like Ben. Of and if he doesn’t pull this off and find that treasure he’ll definitely be going to jail. That’s big.

      1. (Side note, this doesn’t always have to be big). It can also be a lot smaller. Think Lizzie Bennet facing a lifetime trapped in a loveless marriage.

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Where motivation goes wrong in stories

• The "Because I said so" motivation:

  • This happens when a character takes action without a clear internal drive. They chase the magical artifact because it's powerful, not because it means something to them personally. They investigate the murder because they're a detective, not because it connects to their deepest fears or unfulfilled needs. Without that personal connection, readers drift away. Sometimes Marvel does this and it’s always a disappointment.

Give me a character who wants something! Someone who CARES!! I will be catnip in your hands.

• The static motivation:

  • Ok speaking of catnip, wanting something isn’t enough (I know, I know, I’ll explain). What you don’t want is for a character to start wanting something, and... that's it. They want exactly the same thing in exactly the same way until the end, mostly because it isn’t realistic and it doesn’t support any sort of character growth. Real desires evolve as we learn and grow.

When your protagonist discovers the throne they're fighting for won't actually bring them their father's love?

That's when motivation gets interesting. That's when readers lean in.

Again, catnip.

One final thought

You know that feeling when you stay up until 3 AM reading, telling yourself "just one more chapter" over and over? That's what happens when character motivation works. I've been that reader, completely unable to put a book down because I had to know if the character would get what they were fighting for.

That's what we're all chasing as writers.

Not just crafting beautiful sentences or clever plots, but creating that deep, almost desperate need in our readers to see our characters' journeys through to the end.

Here's what I tell myself: if my character's motivation doesn't make me feel something, it won't make my readers feel anything either.

Every time I sit down to write, I ask myself what my character wants so badly they can't let it go – and why my readers won't be able to let it go either.

What characters have stuck with you long after finishing a story? Let me know in the comments!

P.S. If you liked this and are working on a book, I’m offering editorial services again! You can find out more here.

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If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here! I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy and a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic.

My newest book, MAYA IN MULTICOLOR is out 3/11/2025. You can add it on Goodreads here and preorder your copy of MAYA here.

Support my writing

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

Website | Tiktok | Instagram |

Here’s a little snippet from Maya and Nishant’s meet-cute in MAYA IN MULTICOLOR. 👀 💕

…and here’s some of the nice things trade reviews have been saying:

…and finally, a little trope breakdown because who doesn’t love those??

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here! I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy and a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic.

My newest book, MAYA IN MULTICOLOR is out 3/11/2025. You can add it on Goodreads here and preorder your copy of MAYA here.

January was actually a super productive month for me. I spent the month working on a few things—an adult fantasy manuscript I’m calling CODEX, a YA romcom proposal that I refer to as STARS, and brainstorming a new YA fantasy idea I’m in love with but struggling to wrap my arms around.

It’s a lot, I know. But after taking a well-deserved break at the end of December, I felt like I had the clarity I needed to make progress on CODEX and then I just wanted to keep the party going.

CODEX

This book has taken so much out of me. Nibbles and giant bites. For years. I’m not exaggerating when I say that. I got the tiniest kernel of this idea in 2018, drafted it in earnest in 2020 and completely rewrote it…4 times since?

It has caused me to question everything I know about myself as a writer—like, can I write?? But also it has challenged me in so many ways and forced me to grow. It was one of those stories where I could see the potential, my agent could see the potential, my critique partners could as well, but it was also painfully obvious that I hadn’t achieved that potential yet.

If you’ve been wondering why I haven’t released another fantasy yet (aside from the vagaries of publishing and the toil of working a full-time job while writing), this book would be the reason. There were moments when I really wanted to throw in the towel, where I doubted myself, where I completely lost the thread of what I wanted from this story.

I had to ask myself tough questions about who I wanted to be as a writer. I had to face down some of the worst writer behaviors I had (and am working through still), like the tendency to want to go fast when slow is what’s necessary or trying to fit too many ideas into one story and overcomplicating.

Look, I’ve learned a lot. This is the first month where my rewrite of CODEX finally felt right. Not perfect, not finished. But right.

I was finally in that space where my intuition whispered ‘yes, we like this’ in a Gollum voice. Sounds so simple, but let me tell you, I hadn’t heard that voice with this story in…a very long time. The story was finally lining up with the characters (who never changed) and the themes. The plot was still gripping, the world more lush.

I still have no idea if it’s any good.

If it will sell or if any of the work I put into it will have a tangible outcome, but that’s another thing I think this book has been trying to teach me.

Not every book is the same and not every story is the right one, but they’re all worthy.

All of that to say, I finished the first half, revised with some CP feedback, polished and sent it over to my agent. It still needs work, but hopefully not another gut level renovation.

Fingers crossed. 🤞

STARS and a new YA fantasy

After I sent off CODEX and then collapsed onto my couch for four days, unable to read a book or really do anything but watch TV because I was so thoroughly depleted, I came to. A few days of fitful rest and that urge to work on something popped up again.

This time it wasn’t something new, but something old. I had decided to revamp an old YA rom-com proposal and flesh it out a bit more so that it’s a full 50 pages. That initial switch from fantasy to contemporary always feels like jumping into a cold water pool at first, and this time was no different. But then I started to have a lot of fun.

There’s something about writing contemporary that is incredibly freeing, especially coming from a fantasy background. The rules of our world are known so there’s a bit more freedom in capturing the intricacies of normal life. The reason I write both fantasy and contemporary is because I enjoy both and I have stories to tell in both. It’s probably crap for my “branding” but sometimes you have to do things because they’re right for you.

Plus, once I created my playlist of TSwift songs for this story, it locked in. That and a reasonable daily word count and I was actually able to wrap up that first draft pretty quickly. It’s with a CP now and I’ll do another round of edits based on that feedback.

As for the new YA fantasy, it’s still very nebulous. I have the broad strokes of the outline, the character arc for the FMC, and a sense of the vibes, but not much else. I haven’t gotten a feel for the voice or the type of story quite yet and I think that means I need to read more and do more research, which is why I have a stack of books on our coffee table.

This photo is a little bit of a hint. 👀

Lessons from January:

• Journaling actually is really great for my creativity and productivity. It feels like an “unproductive” task but I can feel the crud from my mind wipe away whenever I commit to doing even just one morning page. Even if it’s just me whining about something in my life for a full page, I can feel my creativity revving up.

• Sometimes you need to create a mini-writing retreat for yourself. That doesn’t necessarily mean you need to find a cabin somewhere. It can be as simple as putting Do Not Disturb on your phone and carving out the chunks of time for yourself where you exclusively get to do whatever helps you create. The frigid temps in NYC helped me with this quite a bit—I just didn’t want to leave the house to see anyone or do anything. I hibernated, hard. Part of the reason why I was able to get so much writing done, I think.

• BREAKS. Build them in, don’t use them as rewards!! That’s it. That’s the whole tweet.

And one final lesson, which is personal so it goes behind the paywall.

I wanted to get a bit more vulnerable and real with this community but also have the safety of knowing I’m talking to my readers of Prose and Process instead of the whole wide internet. It’s a weird world out there. I’ve finally added subscriptions and I’ll be announcing some other cool perks and content series I have planned, so keep your eyes peeled.

Ok, the biggest lesson. This one’s a doozy.

I need to become more delulu —

Because it’s something no one tells you about being a successful writer.

Read more

Usually, I wear headphones while writing but since I was taking a break, I took them out and instantly got engrossed in a conversation nearby. Two friends were catching up, their words overlapping, sentences trailing off, picking up threads of old stories they both knew by heart.

One was a New Yorker of many years, the other had just moved and was clearly falling in love with the city. Both were so vividly drawn in my mind despite them sitting behind me and out of my line of sight.

This, I realized, was exactly what my current manuscript was missing. My characters were saying exactly what they were thinking and they sounded stilted. Like they didn’t know each other.

Dialogue is one of the trickiest elements of writing to get right. When it works, it disappears into the story, carrying character development and plot seamlessly forward. When it doesn't, it sticks out like a sore thumb, pulling readers right out of the narrative.

I spent the week really listening to how people actually talk around me and to me. It’s not necessarily the content I was observing as much as the rhythm.

Notice how people rarely speak in complete sentences? How they interrupt themselves, change direction mid-thought, use filler words? I definitely did last week. For example—

Grocery store phone conversation:

"So I told him—you know how he gets—I just couldn't deal with it anymore."

Real dialogue is messy. It's full of starts and stops, "ums" and "likes," trailing thoughts and abrupt subject changes.

The next step I took was to go back and study dialogue in my favorite TV shows.

I spent this time really listening to the cadence of those TV conversations. Aaron Sorkin's work is particularly great for this—"The West Wing" is a masterclass in how dialogue can be both stylized and natural-feeling. Honestly, his screenplays are pretty brilliant too.

It goes back to what someone once told me—you want dialogue to be real, but not too real. There’s a delicate balance. No one wants to read a book full of “Um, well, you know” just as much as they don’t want to read one full of speeches like the one from Braveheart.

Part of developing a narrative voice in a work is finding out where you fall on that line.

My favorite type of dialogue is romantic banter, personally, which is probably why I write so much of it. A tennis match between people. That’s the perfect blend of real and stylized. But that’s a whole other newsletter that I’ll write later.

Okay, so how do we fix dialogue that's already written?

1. Read it aloud. Better yet, record yourself reading it and play it back. You'll hear immediately when something sounds unnatural.

2. Cut the formality. Unless you're writing very specific characters, most people don't use perfect grammar when they speak. They use contractions, fragment sentences, drop words.

Before: "I do not understand why you would do something like that."

After: "I don't get—why would you do that?"

1. Let characters interrupt each other. Real conversations aren't perfectly choreographed turn-taking exercises. Sprinkling in some natural speech patterns makes dialogue feel more real.

2. Give each character a distinct voice. I recently watched an old TV show where one of the characters had the habit of starting sentences with "Look," when he’s frustrated. Another character trails off when she's trying to make a point without actually making it.

3. Pay attention to subtext. What's not being said is often more important than what is. Think about what your characters are really trying to communicate beneath their words.

4. Remember that dialogue isn't just about exchanging information. People talk to convince, to evade, to connect, to push away. What does your character want from this conversation?

Here’s an example:

"I think we should discuss what happened last night," she said.

"I would prefer not to talk about it," he replied.

"We cannot avoid this conversation forever," she insisted.

Stiff, right? Here's how I might rewrite it:

"About last night—" she started.

"Don't."

"We can't just pretend it didn't—"

"Actually, we can. We don’t have to ever mention it again."

Same information, but now there's tension, character, and rhythm.

The subtext is clear: one character pushing for confrontation, the other actively avoiding it, both revealing their personalities through how they approach the conflict.

Writing good dialogue isn't about transcribing reality—it's about capturing its essence. It's about finding that sweet spot between authenticity and artistry, where your characters feel real enough to step off the page but interesting enough to keep readers turning pages.

So next time your dialogue feels stiff, try taking off those headphones. Listen to the world around you. Pay attention to how people really talk—not just what they say, but how they say it.

And remember, sometimes the most important parts of a conversation are in the spaces between the words.

What about you? What are your tricks for making dialogue feel more natural?

If you enjoyed this post, would love it if you could like and share!

P.S. If you liked this and are working on a book, I’m offering editorial services again! You can find out more here.

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If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here! I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy and a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic.

My newest book, MAYA IN MULTICOLOR is out 3/11/2025. You can add it on Goodreads here and preorder your copy of MAYA here.

Support my writing

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

Website | Tiktok | Instagram |

"Where do you get your ideas?"

Sometimes it's a student, sometimes it's an adult, but the question always comes with this hopeful gleam in their eye, as if I'm about to reveal some secret fountain of creativity they've somehow missed.

Here's the truth: there is no fountain. If there is, I would like someone to tell me where it is, please.

But I do think ideas are easier to find than most people think.

They're in the conversation you overhear at your local coffee shop, in the way sunlight hits a building at just the right angle, in the weird dream you had last night about time traveling with a sentient plant (true story).

The real question isn't where to find ideas—it's how to train yourself to notice them.

Be a curious observer

I'll let you in on a secret: writers aren't special creatures blessed with magical idea-generating powers. We're just professional observers. We're the ones who can't help but wonder about the couple arguing in whispers at the next table, or why that person on the subway is carrying a cardboard box with air holes.

Last summer, I was walking through Union Square when I saw a woman frantically searching through her bag. Something about her desperation caught my attention. I started wondering:

What did she lose? What would happen if she never found it? What if what she lost wasn't what it appeared to be? That single moment spawned three different story ideas.

Or take another moment when I saw a woman in all black (which is not that rare in NYC) whispering into a phone as she got her coffee at the cafe I was working at. This one took a bit more effort. I noticed her and because I happened to be practicing using my observation muscle, I asked myself what her story was.

Immediately, I thought—what if she was a spy? A spy who desperately needed to get her coffee and now she’s five minutes late to an important meet and she’s going to miss it and then the fate of the world—

You get my point.

Consume everything

Reading widely isn't just about becoming a better writer—it's about filling your creative well with possibilities.

Watch movies outside your comfort zone. Listen to podcasts about topics you know nothing about. Each of these inputs becomes part of your creative compost heap, breaking down and combining in unexpected ways.

I once got a screenplay idea from watching a documentary about nature and simultaneously reading a book about Renaissance art forgeries. The connection made no logical sense, but my brain found one anyway.

Is that idea going to pan out? Eh. Maybe not. But the more input you get, the wider you cast your net, the more inspiration you’ll pick up.

Play the “What If” game

Some of my best ideas have come from what I call "productive daydreaming." It's that state where you're doing something mindless—washing dishes, taking a shower, walking your dog—and your brain starts playing the "what if" game.

What if plants could remember who watered them? What if you could taste other people's emotions? What if that weird noise your refrigerator makes at night is actually a portal to another dimension?

No idea is too strange to jot down.

The Tiger at Midnight, the first book in my fantasy trilogy, started out with a simple bolt of an idea that occurred to me while I was standing on the top of a fort in Puerto Rico. I asked myself what the most dangerous thing a soldier of old might have seen while on watch.

And then the thought came to me—a girl.

That’s the first scene of The Tiger at Midnight.

Draw from your own life

Sometimes the best ideas come from asking yourself what story you needed to read but couldn't find. What perspective felt missing from the books you loved? What experience do you uniquely understand that others might relate to?

My first published book started because I wanted to see myself represented in the fantasy novels I devoured as a teen. But it wasn't just about representation.

After I had gotten that first scene for The Tiger at Midnight, I built the rest of the story and the book out by thinking of the tropes I loved the and existing stories that I wanted to expand on or use as inspiration. Particularly with Hindu mythology and stories from ancient Indian history. These were the tales I grew up hearing and they exist in my bones and I wanted to honor them. Thinking of those stories became a huge source of inspiration for the worldbuilding of The Tiger at Midnight.

Keep an idea bank

I have notes everywhere—my phone, random emails I send myself, voice notes recorded while walking. Some are just fragments, maybe random snippets of a dream I actually remembered for once. Most of these will never become anything.

But sometimes, years later, two random fragments will collide and create something entirely new. That's how creativity works—it's less about lightning strikes of inspiration and more about giving your brain enough raw material to chew on for a long, long while. It’s kind of what I’m banking on.

I have a document full of ideas that I'll probably never write. Not because they're bad ideas, but because they haven't grabbed me deeply enough to warrant the months or years it would take to turn them into books. The ideas that become stories are the ones that won't let go, the ones that keep tugging at my sleeve and demanding to be noticed.

Taking the next step

Here's the thing though: ideas are just the beginning.

They're seeds, but you still need to plant them, water them, and tend to them as they grow. Sometimes an idea that seemed brilliant at 2 AM looks rather ridiculous in the morning light. Sometimes what feels like a tiny seed grows into something you never expected.

The real work isn't in simply finding ideas—it's in showing up to develop them, day after day, even when the initial spark of excitement has faded. It's in being willing to dig deeper, to ask harder questions, to stay with an idea long enough to discover what it really wants to be.

That’s what makes a book.

What about you? What random idea combinations are percolating in your creative compost heap? I'd love to hear about them in the comments.

And remember: the world is full of ideas. You just have to go looking for them.

If you enjoyed this post, would love it if you could like and share!

P.S. If you liked this and are working on a book, I’m offering editorial services again! You can find out more here.

Share

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here! I’ve written a fantasy romance trilogy and a cozy rom-com with a touch of magic.

My newest book, MAYA IN MULTICOLOR is out 3/11/2025. You can add it on Goodreads here and preorder your copy of MAYA here.

Support my writing

Maya in Multicolor | The Boyfriend Wish | The Tiger at Midnight trilogy |

Connect with me

Website | Tiktok | Instagram |

If I’m being honest, I’m more of a spring equinox as my start of the year kind of woman, but I’ll never pass up the chance to start anew. And either way, 2025 is here whether we're ready for it or not. 😬

I’ve got a lot planned for Prose and Process this year but I first wanted to take a moment and ask you all—what are you looking for from this newsletter? What did you love and what did you want more of?

Or if there’s anything else that comes to mind, please let me know in the comments below!

If you’re curious about the books I’ve written, you can learn more here!

My newest book, MAYA IN MULTICOLOR is out 3/11/2025. You can add it on Goodreads here and preorder your copy of MAYA here.