Long time, no post. Let’s talk about it.
So, uh—hi again.
It’s been a while. Longer than I meant it to be. Life sort of… happened. Loudly. Messily. Chronically.
The short version? Chronic illness knocked the wind out of my sails for a good while.
The longer version includes navigating a rollercoaster of health stuff and spending the last two years volunteering as a social media liaison for a sickle cell agency—something incredibly close to my heart. That work grounded me, gave me purpose, and reminded me why stories (especially the ones we live, not just the ones we write) matter so damn much.
But through all of that, the writing never really stopped. It just got quieter. More private. More afraid.
Because here’s the truth: I’ve been scared to post. Not scared of writing—writing is breath, writing is how I survive—but terrified of sharing. Of hitting publish. Of letting the words leave the nest.
That’s changed. Not overnight. But piece by piece, breath by breath, word by word.
And now—I’m back.
You’ll start seeing updates for the stories I’ve been building in the background:
Resonant – A broken-limbed, resonance-charged sci-fi about found family, trauma, and the kind of healing that doesn’t come easy. (Kaelin is my heart. ORIN is my chaos. Thane is… complicated.)
Velarinai – My first foray into high fantasy, filled with ancient wardstones, dragon eggs, and a girl named Lirana who has no idea the world has been waiting for her. It’s lyrical, emotional, and steeped in mist and prophecy.
Hollow-Born – The weirdest, funniest, darkest thing I’ve written. A ghost-seeing disaster of a girl named Alma del Muro tries not to get claimed by Death. Or cursed. Again. It’s spooky and deeply personal. (If Odd Thomas and Coco had a chaotic little sibling, it might be this.)
Writing again is terrifying. Posting again is even scarier. But to those of you who’ve started reading, commented, followed, or even just peeked at a chapter—thank you. It might not seem like a big deal to you, but to me? It means everything.
So if you’re still here… thank you for waiting. Thank you for caring. Thank you for being the kind of quiet light that helps stories find their way back home.
More is coming. I promise.
