Writing When Life Isn't Quiet
Redefining what it means to keep writing.
If you had asked me a year ago what “writing” looked like, I probably would’ve answered with a number.
Words written.
Chapters finished.
A writing sprint completed.
I measured progress by what I could count.
Today, my answer looks very different.
This summer reminded me that creativity doesn’t always happen with your hands on the keyboard.
Sometimes it happens while sitting on the couch with a migraine so intense that simply existing feels like the only accomplishment for the day.
Sometimes it happens while teaching your oldest son to drive after he gets his permit.
Sometimes it happens between summer school schedules, family life, and the quiet moments that ask you to slow down whether you planned to or not.
Life has a way of rewriting our routines.
Mine certainly did.
For a while, I struggled with that.
I felt like I wasn’t writing enough.
I hadn’t completed a writing sprint in almost a year.
Social media became quieter than I wanted.
Behind-the-scenes videos stayed in my head instead of making it onto my phone.
I found myself wondering if I was letting readers down.
If I was somehow falling behind.
Then I stopped and asked myself something.
What if writing had simply changed?
Over the last year, I’ve realized that I don’t only write with words anymore.
I write with visuals.
With digital scrapbook pages that help me reconnect with characters before I ever type a chapter.
With timelines.
With notebooks full of fragments.
With family trees.
With systems.
I even found another visual platform that helps me see the universe instead of only reading it.
As someone who naturally thinks in images, that changed everything.
Writing stopped feeling like something I only did at my desk.
It became something I carried with me.
I’ve also spent this year building the parts readers don’t always see.
I continued growing the Daughters of Violence Universe website.
I refined my email community so readers can follow the universe as it grows.
I built systems that will support every book that comes after the first.
Those things don’t look like writing.
But they’re part of the life that allows me to keep writing.
I’m entering my second year as an indie author now.
When I started, I had one goal:
Publish my first book.
I did.
Since then, Baby Girl has found readers through both Amazon and direct sales.
Every person who has chosen to spend time inside this universe still surprises me.
Especially knowing I’ve done very little promotion.
This second year feels different.
I’m no longer chasing the idea of publishing as many books as possible.
Even with eleven works-in-progress waiting patiently.
Instead, I’m building a system that can support this universe for years to come.
Because right now, I’m the writer.
The editor.
The publisher.
The marketer.
The website designer.
The CEO.
Every decision eventually comes back to one person.
Me.
And that means I have to build something that’s sustainable.
This year my sons are seniors in high school.
My daughter is in eighth grade.
They’re stepping into new seasons of life.
So am I.
One of the biggest lessons they’ve unknowingly taught me is that growth requires room.
Not pressure.
Not hustle.
Room.
I’ve realized I need more rest than I used to give myself.
And strangely enough…
The more I allow myself to actually live life, the more ideas I bring back to the page.
I still collect story ideas everywhere.
A conversation.
A photograph.
A song.
A dream.
A quiet observation while people-watching.
Life continues to hand me pieces of the Daughters of Violence Universe.
My job isn’t to force them.
It’s to notice them.
So if you’ve been following this journey, thank you.
And if you’re finding this years from now, thank you for joining it.
The DOVU is still growing.
So am I.
There are more stories to write.
More visuals to create.
More characters waiting for their turn.
And I have a feeling the best parts of this journey are still ahead.
✍🏻 AM — Grounded in raw. Real. Grit. Healing.
