The Myth of Overnight Success – Or Why My Hard Drive is a Literary Graveyard"

Let me tell you a little secret about being an author. It’s not glamorous. It’s not all sipping lattes in quaint bookstores while scribbling in leather-bound notebooks. And it’s definitely not an express ticket to fame.

There’s this myth floating around that writing one book—just one—will turn you into the next literary sensation. That you'll hit publish, wake up the next morning with a fan club, a movie deal, and Oprah knocking on your door.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… nope. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.

The Reality: Years of Writing (and Rewriting… and Crying… and More Writing)

I’ve been writing since I was fourteen. That’s a lot of years spent typing away, dreaming up characters, and questioning my life choices when a plot hole the size of Texas appears out of nowhere. I have thirteen books on Amazon. That sounds impressive, right? But what if I told you that lurking in the depths of my hard drive are twenty-five first drafts that will likely never see the light of day? That’s right. I have an entire library of books that no one—not even my dog—will ever read.

Because writing isn’t about that one brilliant idea that magically turns into a bestseller. It’s about trial and error, learning and improving, pushing past the self-doubt that whispers, maybe you should just take up knitting instead? (I tried, and let’s just say, the knitting world is grateful I chose writing.)

It’s Like Every Other Job—Except You’re Mostly Talking to Imaginary People

Writing is a skill. Like playing an instrument, learning a language, or mastering the delicate art of making a grilled cheese without burning it. (I am still failing at that last one.) You don’t just wake up one day as a full-fledged author. You write. You rewrite. You cringe at your early work. You keep going.

And let me tell you, if you don’t absolutely love it, you will give up. I know, because I have given up—on so many things.

Let’s take a moment to honor my previous career attempts:

The time I thought I’d be a fantastic retail worker until I realized people ask way too many questions.
The brief but chaotic adventure into office life, which ended when I realized staplers and spreadsheets do not spark joy.
The restaurant job where I lasted approximately three weeks before deciding that people get way too emotional about their side orders.

But writing? I always came back to it. Even when it felt impossible. Even when it felt like I was shouting into the void. Even when I stared at my Amazon sales graph and wondered if the numbers were actually going backward.

Because, at the end of the day, I love storytelling. I love creating worlds, crafting characters, and making people feel something—whether that’s joy, suspense, or the deep frustration of yelling at a fictional character for making bad decisions. (Yes, I hear your screams. No, I will not fix it.)

So, What’s the Secret?

The real secret to being a successful author isn’t instant success. It’s perseverance. It’s writing when no one is reading. It’s writing when you think you’re terrible at it. It’s learning, growing, and refusing to quit—because deep down, you know you’re meant to do this.

And maybe, just maybe, one day, I’ll finally have a book that doesn’t just join the literary graveyard on my hard drive.

Until then… I’ll keep writing.

The Absolute Madness of Naming Characters

Let’s talk about one of the most ridiculous struggles of writing a book. No, I’m not talking about the part where you stare at the blinking cursor like it personally insulted your ancestors. I’m talking about naming characters. It should be easy, right? Just slap a name on them and move on? Oh, my sweet summer child. If only. See, naming a character is like naming your kid—except worse, because nobody is going to complain if your kid and their cousin both end up being named Liam. But if your main villain is named Liam and you accidentally give the quirky coffee shop owner in book three the same name? Cue the existential crisis. Let’s walk through the madness. The Overthinking Spiral of Doom You start writing, and there’s that moment: your brand-new character walks onto the page, full of potential. All they need is a name. A simple name. Something strong, something fitting, something— Oh no. Nothing sounds right. This one is too complicated. That one is too simple. ...

Stories Are Everywhere: The Writer’s Endless Inspiration

As a writer, one of the most common questions I’m asked is, “How do you come up with your stories?” It’s a question that often makes me smile because the answer is as simple as it is profound: stories are everywhere. Inspiration doesn’t always strike in grand, dramatic moments. More often than not, it emerges quietly, weaving its way into the fabric of everyday life. Conversations with friends, the sights and sounds of a bustling city, or even the stillness of a room can spark the seed of an idea. Writers aren’t just storytellers; we’re observers, collecting fragments of life and spinning them into tales. Let me share a recent example of how a simple evening turned into the genesis of a new story idea. Over two perfectly crafted negronis, I was discussing the schedule for an upcoming event with a friend. Their house, a treasure trove of artwork, surrounded us. Every piece of art seemed to hum with a story of its own. Midway through the second drink, I remarked, “One day, someb...

The Battle-Scarred ThinkPad and the Mountain of Notebooks: A Love Story

Let’s talk about favorite writing tools. Now, I know some authors might name drop fancy apps, sleek white minimalist keyboards, or those delicate fountain pens with gold nibs that require ceremonial ink rituals … But me? My tools are a little less... romantic. A little more indestructible . And, dare I say, a little more clunky with character . Once upon a time—cue flashback shimmer—I wrote all my stories by hand . Not just a page or two, either. I mean boxes and boxes of handwritten notebooks , full of scribbles, side notes, doodles in the margins, entire character backstories I forgot existed until ten years later. My early stories were a workout for my wrist. I had pens running dry faster than a coffee pot in a newsroom. It was chaotic. It was glorious. Typing those books up? A mission. A translation project. A cryptic decoding effort worthy of Indiana Jones. There were arrows. Stars. Entire paragraphs stuffed sideways in the margins like they were trying to escape the story. So...

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