I’m writing a book right now.
It’s not something I ever expected to do. Not a whole freaking book.
Oh, I’ve always loved writing. I spent many of my younger years writing my brains out. Short stories and poetry. I’ve been published a few times in small anthologies.
But a whole book is another thing altogether.
I just printed out the first draft and the power of holding my words in my hands, a tangible thing, was incredible.
This book is fucking REAL!
Now the draft is sitting here in my studio going through edits. Pen to paper. Pages rearranged. A path being mapped out.
And this book? It’s ain’t fiction. Not at all.
This is the story of how I flipped my life upside down. Dragging my poor family along for the ride.
The story of how I went from resentful and existing to nurturing my creative spark and learning to really live.
The story of waking up.
But it’s not just me, me, me, me, me.
For fuck’s sake, that would be boring.
It’s a guide. A path. A light at the end of the tunnel.
Something for anyone who has looked around at their lives and asked, “Is this all there is? Is there nothing more?”
Because, honey, there’s SO MUCH MORE!
But sometimes the flip turning can be terrifying. The devil you know can be safer for sure.
And sometimes you need a little guidance. Or inspiration.
Someone who’s been there, done that and shares the vulnerable moments that come between the glitter and parades.
That is my book.
And I’m pretty fucking excited about sharing it with you later this year.