One Year of My Pen in the Air

I've learned to fall, and now it's time to run.

Get in friends, we’re going back in time.¹

September 8, 2022

After finishing what I believed was the last draft of my first novel, THE OTHER SIDE OF HOPE, I had myself a big cry and sent a few texts to loved ones. At almost four years since I began my first draft, I reveled in the flood of relief I felt at closing one chapter of my journey to publishing in preparation for the next — querying. Not typically one for emotional selfies, I’m forever thankful I captured the moment I was “done” because even more than when I wrapped that first draft, I knew I’d fought hard to get here.

September 8, 2023

Through with riding the rollercoaster year that started with hope and anticipation, bottomed-out in grief and rejection, and then revived with rediscovery and renewal, I started this Substack and published my first post. I didn’t pick the date on purpose; I’d all but forgotten it. My only plan or goal was to stop hiding and hoarding my words. I was ready to pull new threads and meet new readers, but I had zero expectations for how it might go. Unintentionally, and most likely because I was having a good hair day, I snapped a dusky selfie at our oldest’s soccer game that evening.

September 8, 2024

Today, I write my fortieth post in celebration of one year of My Pen in the Air, certain that no single entry could begin to tell you what this experience, so far, has meant to me. Every hour spent writing. Every open. Every like. Every e-mail. Every comment. Every restack. Every subscription. Every follow. Every second you’ve spent here has filled and refilled my creative well. Thank you for staying with me as I’ve shared my work and my heart, regaining writing ground in the process. Even though I hadn’t meant to, this space and its timing has allowed me to recapture the sense of pride and fulfillment I felt two years ago. To no longer feel shame for the hope and belief that burns in me. Please know (and see!) that this year and your part in it have been essential to my journey and an immense source of joy.

To commemorate the occasion, I thought about offering you a behind the scenes look at my top posts and my favorite posts, because they are not always, in fact, one and the same. Then I considered sharing the lessons I’ve learned, the failures I’ve recovered from, and even the mistakes I’ve continued to make along the way. There are plenty, indeed.

It was that train of thinking, though, that forced me to get really honest with myself. And now, I want to be honest with you, too.

So, today, instead of much fanfare, you get a confession — and a promise.

First, my confession:

Earlier this calendar year, I noticed that I was beginning to use my time here as an excuse to not work on my books. Hours writing for and building this space accrued week by week, while my revision time with THE OTHER SIDE OF HOPE, a story I love with my whole heart, was minimal. Even WITH YOU EVERYWHERE has sat just over half-drafted, mere hours spent in the last year adding to a story that deserves more. Combined with the three other projects with loose outlines that I think about often, I’m practically bursting at the creative seams.

And doing very little about it.

My work here has not all been for nothing. There’s just no way it could be at nearly 60,000 words and hundreds of hours spent writing, building connections, and engaging with readers I am so very thankful for. There have been threads pulled, skills honed, and lessons learned that have been essential, even to my fiction writing. I have made new friends, had important conversations, and refuse to “throw the baby out with the bathwater”.

But the feedback loop of not-so-longform writing in real-time can be powerful motivator and, truth be told, distraction.

Now, my promise:

I can’t be a novelist giving crumbs to her novels, and I won’t, any longer.

My Pen in the Air isn’t going anywhere, and I hope you won’t either.² But I’ll be prioritizing my book projects with the time I have to work, first and foremost. My actual work time is about the same as it’s been the last handful of years — only now my mental (and emotional, let’s just be honest) capacity for deep work is returning, little by little, and it’s time to make a shift.

In the end, you may not see all that much of a difference, but it’s important to me that you know there is one.

I’d like to make myself more accountable — to myself, to my family, to my friends, and to my readers who are also friends and family — to move the needle on my path to publication. I count you among those I’m accountable to, and hope you’ll humor me when my monthly wrap-ups, to the best of my intention, include legitimate and no-longer vague updates on my work-work.

Work that, though away from readers’ eyes for now, is no less important just a lot less flashy.

Now that I’ve stopped hiding and hoarding, through this medium, I’ve got to face what I fear head-on. And what I fear is that I might not have what it takes to make it happen. That is, to bring these stories — the beautiful, redemptive one that’s survived challenging years, the enticing one that’s half-told but itching to be fully formed, and even more which deserve their chances — to more readers.

But I won’t make it happen if I don’t get to work.

I’ve learned to fall, and now it’s time to run.

And I hope you’re coming with me.

Thank you for an incredible year!

(Who knows where we might be next September 8th…)

In gratitude,

1. What’s a missive from me without a little trip down memory lane?

2. But you’re always free to go and if you do, know that I’m still thankful for you!