Thinkingdog Publishing

You know that saying: “It takes a thousand attaboys to make up for one ‘oh sh t.’”* Whoever said that? Genius. Pure, unfiltered genius. Because it is painfully, annoyingly, exasperatingly true. Let me take you behind the scenes of my other life . Yes, because while my writing career is still building (more chapters to come, friends), in the daylight hours I organize a huge outdoor art show in my hometown. And not to brag, but let’s just say, if there’s a job connected to this event, I do it. I’m like Mary Poppins with an endless bag—except instead of pulling out umbrellas and sugar cubes, I pull out spreadsheets, contracts, and more emails than any sane human should have to read. Part of my annual heroic efforts includes creating alllll the social media content. I’m talking images, videos, stories, text—you name it, I design it. Last year, I uploaded the whole glorious lot to a shared folder and told my nearly 200 artists : “Hey, it’s all there for you! Use it however you’d like....

Let me tell you a little secret. One that I, like most writers I know, don’t say out loud unless coaxed with chocolate or caffeine or the promise of a free tote bag. Ready? I regularly think I’m a fraud. Yep. Impostor syndrome is basically my sidekick. My unwanted sidekick. Like a clingy ex who keeps showing up at book signings whispering, “You don’t belong here.” You see, writing is deeply personal . We’re not assembling IKEA furniture (though honestly, my last attempt at a bookshelf made me feel equally unqualified). When you write, you’re pulling thoughts from your soul, arranging them into fragile sentences, and then sending them out into the big bad world hoping someone doesn’t say, “Well, that’s garbage.” There’s no magical scroll that arrives by owl post declaring: “Congratulations, you are now officially a Writer™.” No license, no laminated badge, not even a quirky business card. If you’re waiting for someone to officially knight you with a pen and say, “Arise, Word Wa...

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 th...

  Let’s rewind to about a year ago when I decided to dabble in audiobooks. You know, like a casual hobby—except nothing in my life ever stays casual. I either go all in or I abandon ship before even getting my feet wet. This time, I went all in. I got myself a fancy Zoom P4 deck, a solid Samson dynamic microphone, and a whole mess of software that I initially had no idea how to use. I figured, how hard could it be? (Spoiler: very hard ). But I wasn’t worried. Why? Because I know my learning style. Some people take courses. Some people hire coaches. Some people watch endless YouTube tutorials. And then there’s me—stubbornly determined to learn everything by trial and error. I prefer to tinker, to break things, to question my life choices when I realize I recorded an entire chapter with my mic turned off. "Why don’t you just take a course?" my brother, the actual audio engineer, asked repeatedly. (This is the same brother who once set up my first microphone and watche...

There comes a time in every writer’s life when they sit down with a cup of coffee (or let’s be honest, something stronger) and ask themselves: Why do I do this to myself? I’ve written thrillers. I’ve written romance. I’ve written thrillers again because apparently, I enjoy stress. But no matter where my writing adventures take me, I always— always —come back to cozy mysteries. And you know what? They’re my most successful books, too. So, why cozies? Simple. Have you looked outside lately? The world is one sigh away from an absolute meltdown. I mean, it’s a lot. Every time I scroll the news, I have to resist the urge to grab my dog and escape to a remote island where WiFi doesn’t exist. But instead of moving to the middle of nowhere, I write cozy mysteries. Why? Because I need to believe that somewhere, somehow, a kinder world still exists. A world where people bake pies instead of doom-scrolling. A world where a cup of tea and a bit of small-town gossip can actually solv...

 You know those wholesome motivational quotes like, “Be the reason someone smiles today” ? Yeah, well, I aimed for that. I really did. But sometimes life hands you a glitter grenade, and suddenly you're the reason someone’s clutching their emotional support coffee (or cabernet) like a life raft. ☕ It Started with Good Intentions... One day, I woke up and said, “Today’s the day I’m going to spread joy like confetti!” Except, I was out of actual confetti, so I improvised with passive-aggressive Post-it notes and a smile that made people wonder if I was okay. (I wasn’t. But I had snacks, so I was hanging in there.) At the coffee shop, I complimented a stranger’s socks. They looked at me like I had just asked them to join a cult. I smiled. They left quickly. So… not quite a smile, but I was the reason they power-walked back to their car with fresh adrenaline. 🍷 You Win Some, You Wine Some Later that afternoon, I tried again. I told a friend they looked radiant. They asked if I wa...

  I have a confession. You may have noticed that I give books away. A lot. It’s not because I enjoy throwing my hard work into the literary void like a parade float tossing candy to a sugar-starved crowd (though that does sound fun). No, there’s a method to my madness. A sneaky, strategic, brilliant (if I do say so myself) plan behind the generosity. But before we get to that, let’s talk about something I have waxed poetic about many times: Amazon reviews. If you’ve followed me for a while, you know I treat book reviews like they’re a rare and precious mineral. You may have even caught me dramatically swooning over a five-star review. (Or whispering sweet nothings to my laptop screen when a particularly glowing review comes in. Don't judge.) The truth is, for indie authors like me, reviews aren’t just nice—they’re survival. They tell Amazon’s mysterious algorithm that my books are worth recommending to new readers. They help readers decide if my story about a ghostly sidekic...

This winter really kicked my rear end . I don’t know if it was actually colder, longer, and snowier than usual or if it just felt that way, but either way, I felt drained. A kind of low-grade listlessness settled over me, the kind that makes it hard to muster enthusiasm for much of anything. My creativity? It all but hibernated. I’ve always been a summer person. I thrive when the sun is shining, when I can get outside and move, when nature feels alive and bursting with possibility. There’s something about stepping into warm air that sparks energy in me, making ideas flow as easily as the breeze through the trees. But winter? Winter is different. The days are short, the nights are long, and the cold seeps into everything. Even with the glow of holiday lights or the beauty of fresh snow, I find myself counting down to spring. I try to embrace the season—hot tea, cozy blankets, the occasional twinkling snowfall—but the truth is, I have to actively fight my way through these three months...