But there was one in the backyard this week! It was down by the pond, and while I tried to get a photo, it wasn’t happening. All I got for my efforts was an orange blur.
Still, I haven’t seen a fox in the backyard for years (granted, I may simply be missing them), so it was nice that this one stopped for a visit.
Autumn and October have officially arrived:
October in the wetlands
In writing news, I’ve made it through the longhand edits! The last 200 pages or so are waiting patiently for me to start keying them into the manuscript.
After that, I’ll need to comb through the manuscript, adding here, deleting there. Looking for the crutch words and phrases I’ve used or overused. I know I’ve said aplomb far too many times (or, rather, Henry has). My characters do far too much eye-rolling (to be fair, it’s warranted).
I even started work on the cover. Here’s a peek:
So, The Marigold Miracle is starting to feel like a real book.
I am, however, taking the rest of the day off. It’s lovely out, and while I may not venture far from home, I am going to enjoy this unseasonably warm weather.
First, look at these beauties stopping by on their migration:
All of us in the park that morning did our best not to disturb their walk through the space. I swear, you could see everyone hold their breath as they passed by.
Another question Anno asked was this:
Are there stories and themes you prefer to work from?
The answer to this is yes and no. I don’t usually sit down with a theme in mind, and sometimes, I don’t even have a story. What I often have is a character in a situation or with a problem she must solve. (I suppose you could call this the inciting incident.)
So, I work from there. How does she solve this problem? Can she solve this problem? Does she create more problems by solving the first, and so on.
I really enjoy writing adventure stories, although my idea of an adventure is often very silly (catching ghosts with coffee, protecting the world with umbrellas), and these have emerged alongside my indie career.
I trace these stories back to having to entertain myself in the backseat of the car on our cross-country trips to Oregon. When reading in the car makes you sick, you don’t have many options for entertainment, at least not back in the 1970s.
I also love secrets—in stories if not real life. I’m not certain I’ve written a story where someone doesn’t have a secret. I also really love intergenerational secrets, generally the older generations keeping things from the younger ones (often for very good reasons, but still, secrets).
Found family. A lot of my stories involve the main character(s) finding someone or several someones to call home over the course of a story (or series). Some of this is simple logistics. Introducing a large cast of characters all at once is difficult for both the writer and the reader. But I have enough found families in my stories that this is clearly a theme I work from, even if it’s not a conscious choice.
In practical writing news, it’s crunch time for the Deep Valley Book Festival. I go back and forth between thinking I have too many books and then not enough. (I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?) I plan to have the car packed on Friday, so all I need to do is grab my electronics and go on Saturday morning. (Okay, coffee and a shower first.)
It’s going to be a busy week, but I’m looking forward to it.
I’m no longer living in a construction zone! On a related topic, words you never want to hear in the same sentence: water and structural damage.
It’s been a long haul, but the water damage has been repaired! And I have new patio doors, which I’ve been gazing at and through. I even put up an extra hummingbird feeder, although that doesn’t seem to have stopped the territorial battles.
Hummingbirds = fierce
So, a month or two back, I was apparently feeling extra sassy, and I put myself on the exhibitor waitlist for the Deep Valley Book Festival. I didn’t think I’d get a table, and if I did, well, that was a problem for future Charity.
Yes, you’ve guessed it. I now have a four-foot table at the festival. Not only that, but they also invited me to be on the author panel (!).
I’ve been busy creating things for my table: business cards, a pricing sheet, an ebook postcard giveaway, and bookmarks for Booking Through Thursday.
I’ve also been mentally gearing up for the author panel. The topic is:
Ever wonder where authors get their ideas, how they create memorable characters, or what really happens behind the scenes of writing and publishing a book? This lively, audience-driven panel puts you in charge of the conversation. Bring your questions and ask our participating authors anything about their books, their writing journeys, and the creative process!
I’m hoping for more than a deer-in-the-headlights response and “I have no idea. It just happens.” That wouldn’t be very lively.
If any of you would like to lob some practice questions my way, I’d appreciate it. I’ll also answer them here on the blog.
Happy Sunday. I’m off to refill my hummingbird feeders and referee some pitched battles.
I spent this last week quietly working through all the notes I have for not only The Marigold Miracle, but also The Rose Rebellion (book 3), The Dahlia Dilemma (possibly book 3.5), and a manuscript to be named later (but maybe The Florence Fiasco).
Yes, I love me some alliteration.
I refined the old notes (things change as I write) and made new ones. As you can see:
Actually, that’s not all the notes I’ve made while writing this series, just the most recent ones.
There are all sorts of studies about the hand-to-brain connection. I love writing longhand. The main problem I have is searching for the information I’ve written down. Clearly, my handwriting is nowhere near good enough to scan into a digital file (if only).
So, I’ve further refined my notetaking technique by adding plot points and characters in the margins. That way, I can page through and quickly find what I need.
The other thing I’m doing is double-checking my world-building. I really don’t want to end up needing to retcon (retroactive continuity) something.
I’ve really enjoyed this process, and I plan to keep at it for this coming week. Not interacting with any kind of digital technology for several hours in the morning has been unbelievably refreshing.
So, I am still (loosely) following the Ines Johnson Page Turner Planner system. Part of that is to reflect after each quarter—a good practice. It’s so easy to think you haven’t accomplished anything at all. At least, it is for me.
But in tallying up the first quarter of 2026, I discovered I did quite a bit.
The biggest, obviously, is getting a solid draft of The Marigold Miracle, which is now spell-checked, formatted, and resting quietly.
Other things I did:
Started Booking Through Thursday.
Submitted two short stories, one of which is in the final round of consideration.
Got a BookBub Free Reads deal for Must Love Ghosts that was tremendous.
Added a funnel to The Pansy Paradox at the end of Coffee & Ghosts book four—a short excerpt with a link to the extended preview.
Updated my WordPress template.
Migrated my email newsletter list to a different provider. This was not fun, but I’m glad I did it.
Things I didn’t do or dropped:
I wanted to look at drafting short stories, but my entire attention was on The Marigold Miracle, so this didn’t happen. It may happen in the next weeks while the manuscript rests. I’m fine with this. My entire brain was in the world of King’s End, and that’s where it needed to be.
The Jane Eyre slow read. I don’t know if it was the audio version or what (and yes, I know I could switch to a print version). But Adele sounded like a fifty-year-old French woman, and I’m not even sure what Mr. Rochester sounded like, except for wrong. But since it felt like a relief to stop, I think I made the right decision here.
And that’s my first quarter. I hope you take time to reflect and discover that you also did so much more than you imagined—even if it wasn’t exactly what you planned on doing.
It’s not the final draft, but it is the draft that has all its moving parts—or, at least, most of them. If someone read this particular draft, they could follow the story. I filled in all the missing scenes, wrote a new beginning, and picked up where I left off with the epilogue.
In the previous draft, I stopped writing in the middle of that epilogue. Yes, really! It was in my head, the last line in particular, so it didn’t really matter if it was on the page.
What comes next? I’m going to run a spellcheck, since when I draft, I never use spelling or grammar checking or turn on anything that provides “helpful” hints. (And Copilot is even more annoying than Clippy.)
After that, I’ll put it in manuscript format and then let it rest.
For how long? I’m not sure. I’m thinking between four and eight weeks. Then I’ll print that monster and do a paper edit.
And it is a monster of a story: 160,000 words, y’all.
This is the longest book I’ve ever written, beating The Pansy Paradox by 20,000 words. I did add a point of view (Marigold’s) and wrote a new beginning, so this makes sense.
I will streamline things in the edit, but I know my writing process well enough to know that I won’t move the needle that much. I tend to streamline and cut in one place only to add in another.
So, I read 91 books in 2025. This is a good number, great even. Generally, I read between 85 and 100 books a year. (Although one year I logged 118.)
This might sound strange, but in 2026, I want to read more. Or perhaps differently. Most of my reading this year was recreational—which is awesome—but I need more variety if I’m going to write.
Odd thing: when I was commuting to the day job, I was getting that. The fastest I ever got to work (door to parking garage) was 45 minutes. Heading home? Oh. Don’t get me started on that, but easily an hour and a half. (Some days? In winter? A three-hour drive home.)
I was a captive audience; I had to listen to whatever I’d checked out from the library. Either that or drive-time radio and … no, thank you.
This, I realize, really fed my writing. The reading wasn’t necessarily research-related. It was more like fueling my brain for writing, filling the gas tank, if you will. (In CliftonStrengths terms, I’m a #2 Input; I need input.)
Despite how busy I was, I could get several hours of reading in each day.
What’s my problem now?
I’ve confined my reading to (mostly) the evenings. I’ve always read in the evenings, so this isn’t a surprise. What I need to do is add afternoon sessions.
This feels decadent. I feel like I should be doing something. (I blame the hustle/grind culture and toxic productivity for this.)
But isn’t reading doing something? I think it is. And it’s something I need to do if I’m going to write. So, one thing I want to do in 2026 is practice those afternoon reading sessions. And I have one planned for today.
This week, I experimented with increasing my manuscript time blocks. I increased the number by one, so instead of three, I was doing four time blocks.
By Thursday, though? Full-on brain and body revolt. I did a single time block, and then everything in my being noped out. I was done. This wasn’t garden-variety resistance. This was me, having outrun the story in my head.
So I closed the manuscript and switched to some admin tasks that needed to be done.
On Friday, I did three time blocks and—to quote Goldilocks—it felt just right.
I know, from past experience, that I’ll write more the closer I am to the end of the book, and revision has its own sort of rhythm.
This is also why I’ve noped out of listening to writing process advice. I’m never going to write 5,000 words an hour. More to the point, I actually don’t want to. That’s not how my stories happen.
My stories are slow-and-steady tortoise things. I can embrace that and be happy. Or, I can fight that and be miserable.
I’m choosing to be happy.
In admin/business focus tasks, this was the week to examine our social media accounts. (That sound you hear is me laughing.) The principle behind this is that readers often look to social media first to find an author rather than a website.
Interestingly enough, this week, Cal Newport had a take on what might happen to these social media platforms in an age where “everything” is becoming short-form video content. It’s an interesting blog post, as was the corresponding podcast.
I do have a notion of what I might do with my social media accounts. It is not, however, going to be a huge part of my business. In seasonal news, it’s cold. Those of us with any sense are hibernating.
January 3rd of this year was my last day of work. After my final check-in with my manager, she told me to go ahead and log off at noon. So I did, and had my work laptop boxed and at FedEx in less than thirty minutes.
Note: It helped that the closest FedEx Office is about two miles away.
I figured that August 3rd is a good day to do another reality check. So, how’s it going?
In retrospect, pretty good.
I completed two paper edits of The Pansy Paradox and one of the bonus novella, The Capstone Conundrum. Yes, I love me some alliteration.
I’ve sent both books to my proofreader.
I regularly have coffee dates with a friend from my former workplace who is also a writer. This has been wonderful.
I attended the Author Platform Growth Summit, which focused on mindset, resiliency, sustainability, and alignment in an author career, rather than tactics, toxic productivity, and the hustle and grind.
I finally bought my Mac Studio and have dived headfirst into Photoshop.
I completed a read-through of The Marigold Miracle, and now I’m musing and bread-machining my way to a second draft.
I planted my cottage garden.
I’ve been taking lots of long (thinking) walks.
One thing that really stands out: None of the above feels like work. That doesn’t mean it’s without effort, or that I don’t get tired, or overwhelmed by information.
What doesn’t exist anymore in my day-to-day working life is this:
No context switching (h/t Cal Newport). The first thing I do with technology in the day is either write or use Photoshop. No email and no social media. I may have a browser open to a stock image site or Adobe fonts, or whatever. But that’s it.
No hyper-active hive mind and no pseudo productivity (h/t also Cal Newport). I do not miss Microsoft Teams or VPs/senior directors sliding into Teams chat on the regular. I really don’t miss unending email threads where someone copies me on a discussion because it “might” be a documentation issue. (And to be clear, everyone involved would love to make it a documentation issue—well, except documentation.)
So work? Doesn’t feel like work. I do want to stress that I still get tired, still need weekends to give my brain a break. But I don’t get the Sunday scaries. In fact, I really love Monday mornings.
So on Monday evening, the sky decided to present us with this:
A rainbow to the east and a sunset to the west!
Rainbow over our house
Sunset from the back deck
I’ve been decidedly in bread machine mode with book two (The Marigold Miracle). I’ve been reviewing the draft—slowly—making notes, and then letting everything simmer or churn or do whatever it is my brain does when I’m not paying attention.
It’s nice to really embrace and refine my bread-machine way of writing. I already have some (what I hope are) nifty ideas for draft two. When I wrote the original draft, I knew that the initial scenes would not be the first scenes of the book. But, at the time, I simply needed a way into the story and those scenes worked for that.
It’s not flashy, but I’m pleased with this progress. I’ve also made a dent in all those Photoshop tutorials as well this week. And since the air quality here is awful and I’m stuck inside, that’s what I’m going to do next.
