I was 50k words into a paranormal romance novel when my youngest, and last, child arrived. I set the book aside because the baby was more important. The book could wait. I told myself I’d pick it back up in a year or two when she was older.

That was seven years ago. A lot has happened in the interim. My oldest son’s car accident. A global pandemic. A job loss.

Not one, not two, but three children becoming obsessed with volleyball thrust our entire family headfirst into the world of club sports. If you know, you know. So much traveling. So many practices. So much money.

I lost several friends, several cousins, and a father in law to death.

I had health issues. I spent two months getting weekly iron infusions.

One child came out. Family, friends, and a homeschool community were lost. I launched an online home school gay straight alliance. My oldest daughter got married. My family suffered further losses. A sister. A niece.

A second child came out.

All of my children got diagnosed with ADHD, some with Autism, and two with EDS and AMPS.

We found a new home school group. I started teaching at our co-op. There were personal struggles. My husband started a new business. I was diagnosed with POTS.

The last seven years have been…. Busy. To say the least.

Somewhere along the way my passion for writing was reignited, but for something I never saw coming: Fanfiction.

I started posting on Tumblr, not wanting to post it here. For two years I was very prolific. At one point I turned out a 110k word story in just three and half months.

I entered a writing contest at a local library and won first place for the updated version of my very first flash fiction piece.

I published a novella.

And finally, tonight, I opened my paranormal romance WiP. I did some organizing, made some notes, and plotted out the next few chapters.

It felt amazing.

Then I came here, with the urge to update this blog, for the first time in over a year.

Maybe, just maybe, I’m finally back on the track I exited seven years ago.