Advice: Find your People

I was sitting in a high school classroom the other day listening to high school students chat with one another. They sat in clumps, computers open, phones out, some with masks and others without.  Their conversations ranged from processing friendship drama to loud exuberance over a game they’d played the night before. Some begrudged the annoying dress code for an upcoming dance while others focused on an upcoming quiz in math. It made me think about my own experiences at that age and how important it felt to just be in the moment with one’s friends. How important it was to feel as if I had the opportunity to just be myself.

I was seventeen when this was taken.

Only, through my teenage years I never had been. It wasn’t like I didn’t like myself. I did. I just remember being afraid that other people might not like me. I was an introvert in disguise as an extrovert, a chameleon shifting colors to adapt to my needs. All I really wanted to do was be at home writing or reading. I remember feeling like other people wouldn’t be able to relate. They were fun and energetic. They did fun things, went to parties, had significant others. They wore stylish clothes and did well in classes. In hindsight, I was those things too. I didn’t have a boyfriend, but I had friends. Teachers liked me. I worked hard and did well. I was fun and laughed and was very conscious about how I presented myself. Though high school was mostly positive for me, I wouldn’t want to return to high school. College was where I finally began to feel comfortable in my own skin.

I read in this book—The Tattoo by Chris McKinney—about how each person has three suns around which they revolve. Those suns are family, friends, and a significant other. The main character of the book—Kenji—expresses that if two of those suns function in your life, then all’s good, but if two of them fail, you’re screwed. The point being: you must find your tribe.

Some of my favorite stories include the found family trope. The Aurora Cycle by Jay Kristoff and Amie Kaufman; The Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo, The Raven Cycle by Maggie Steifvater, Fable by Adrienne Young, The House on the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune. I love the idea of people finding their tribe. In the new story I’m working on, The Ring Academy: The Trials of Imogene Sol, Imogene’s found family is important as they help her clear her name of a horrible charge that could get her kicked out of the academy.

Coming August 1, 2023

I’m not exactly sure what this blog is about—maybe just a thought dump, but clearly, I’m thinking about “the tribe.” If I could offer a young person any sort of advice it would be that: Find your tribe.

The Road of Echoes: New Blog Series

Fifteen weeks and a couple of days are all that remains between today and the publication of In the Echo of this Ghost Town and When the Echo Answers. Considering that each time I venture into a new story I experience the doubt and subsequent terror that I will never be able to write a book ever again, I am ecstatic that we’re moving toward the finish line. 

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I am so proud of these books. I am so proud of Griffin.

Those of you who have read The Stories Stars Tell will understand why I’m so proud, because you will recognize Griffin as a secondary character from that book. He wasn’t a likeable character in Emma’s and Tanner’s stories.  As Tanner’s best friend, Griffin did everything in his power to undermine Tanner’s growth, block the relationship, and guilt Tanner into remaining stuck within the Bro Code. 



So how does a character go from being vile to the hero of his own story?

It’s a great question, and one I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to pull off. I certainly had a ton of doubts when I first started writing it. I’m so excited to say that I did it. Griffin made it to “book boyfriend” status. I know it in my bones that’s a true statement. How did I do it?

That will be the subject of the next 9-week blog series. If you’ve ever wanted to go behind the scenes of a book, that’s where I’ll be taking you. From why I wrote the book, to research, to narrative choices, to character design, I’m going to invite you behind the scenes to look at how I created these two books. 

Be sure to join me here on the blog each Wednesday for a new installment about the creative journey from villain of The Stories Stars Tell to the hero of In the Echo of this Ghost Town and When the Echo Answers.  If you want more information, be sure to join my newsletter (which publishes the first of every month. That’s tomorrow!) There will be information about ARCs and the Pre-Order incentive.

Next week: What inspired me to take a closer look at Griffin as a possible hero for his own story.




Writing In Between

I’m in The Fold of Ravka (and, yes, this is a plug for both the books and the Netflix series which is awesome). Why am I in the Fold? I’m in between writing books and am ducking Volcra trying to eat me as I try and find my way through the dark.

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I have all of these ideas: several new contemporaries, an adult romance, a dystopian idea (can’t work on the fantasy right now since it’s resting for the next eight weeks). I don’t know where to go. The thing is, I do this every time. I finish a book, then spin in the dark unsure what’s next, worried I’ve lost my way, and struggle with the doubt that I’ll ever be able to do it again. 

But somehow, I find the thread of light. I find my way through it and out the other side to write a new story. Not sure what’s next, but in the meantime, here’s a snippet of something I wrote while hanging out in the dark.

If you’ve read The Cantos Chronicles which starts with Swimming Sideways, you might recognize some of these names.


Something New…

I don’t need snow today, and it isn’t even the good kind. Instead it’s wet and slushy, sinking razor cold teeth into everything. Fitting really. I was prepared for the rain. Freaking Willamette Valley weather. I’m still getting into the swing of things after winter break. The swing of a new term, new classes. The swing of being single again, not that it’s much different than when Sebastian and I were together. Six weeks removed, and I’m seeing that more clearly, now. We’d been going through the motions as a couple, far longer than in the swing of two people truly in love, and I should have seen it but hadn’t until it was removed.

As I was walking out the door of my apartment to leave for work, he’d called. That was not in the swing of things. My axis, which had finally regulated, tilted more than I cared to admit.

“I’m just checking in on you,” he’d said.

I could picture him sitting at the desk in his bedroom at his own apartment running a finger along the edge like he often did when he was on the phone. His bedroom barely controlled chaos behind him. His curly dark hair in need of a trim. I didn’t like that I could picture him with clarity still. 

“That isn’t your job,” I’d answered as I checked the locked door of my apartment, then started down the sidewalk to my car, annoyed at the intrusion but also conflicted by it. I thought I’d been in love with him. I thought he was probably the one, then I got the We should talk followed up with him dating a new girl a week after that talk.  Nine months together, most of them pleasant, the comfort of sliding back into an easy pattern of behavior that feels safe and secure is tempting. “Why are you calling?”

“I just–” he’d paused as though weighing and measuring the impact of his words. This was a usual Sebastian speech pattern, as though he hooded his words, himself, in the guise of how he said something to make me feel complacent but equally unsure.  “I know the anniversary is coming up, and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

I had a fleeting thought that maybe he’d been planning on saying something different, but then settled on what I’d heard. I dismissed the doubt. My normal pattern of behavior where he was concerned. What he’d asked was more endearing than holding onto any negative thoughts about his intentions. “I’m going home. I’ll be okay. Thanks.”

I’d climbed into my car, phone pressed to my ear with my shoulder holding it in place. Once inside the car, I’d started it, the phone switching to bluetooth, and I sat there, waiting for the car to warm up but also for him to say something else. The silence between us stretched into awkward territory. 

“Was that–” I’d started.

“I miss you,” He’d said at the same time.

“I’m not sure what to make of that.” My heart stalled in my chest, frozen in suspended animation awaiting something to bring it back to life. Being with Sebastian was so easy, yet he’d moved on way easier than me. I suspect it had started long before we actually parted ways. That hurts. The knowledge that I’d been so easy to replace slashed and burned the already broken parts of me. I was sitting in the car feeling like a hollowed out version of myself, and I wasn’t sure anything would ever feel normal again.

“I feel sort of lost,” he’d said. “And you always helped me figure myself out.”

My eyes had slipped closed. Always what I could do for him, just like my sister, Ruth, pointed out over the break. “He’s selfish,” she’d said. I’d opened my eyes back up and drove from the parking lot toward my job. “Sebastian. I can’t do this.”

“Hannah–”

“We’re over. Remember?”

His silence was confirmation enough.

I took a turn. “I can’t be your go to, Bash.”

“You’re right.”

I parked the car and sat back against the seat surprised by his admission. This was different for us. The swirls of us had mostly been the opposite, Sebastian maneuvering the conversation to where it was in his favor, and me capitulating. “I have to go to work.”

“Okay. Maybe I could call you later?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just to talk.”

I sighed. “Okay. Sure.”

We’d ended the call, and I sat in the car imagining myself the shape of a gooey heart where everything gets stuck inside the viscous jelly of my inability to set limits. I folded forward with my head on the steering wheel and bumped my head a couple of times with annoyance. Why couldn’t I just be stronger? Returning to rehash Sebastian even if that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about wasn’t good for me. It was good for him.

Now, I look up at the clock and hustle from my car. I need to get back into the swing of work, and because of that call, I’m running late for my shift. I hate being late; I hate letting anyone down.

 I rush through the doors at Hammerson Library, my eyes unfocused and replaying the conversation with Sebastian in my mind, and bump into someone hurrying out. The books in my arms flop out, falling to the ground in a syncopated succession of thuds. “Oh. I’m so sorry,” I say, and bend down to pick up the books which I don’t want to get wet. Shoot. Shoot. I’m going to be late.

“So sorry,” a deep voice says at the same time. “My fault. I wasn’t–” A familiar voice. Stalled now on his last word. “Hannah?”

I glance at a face I recognize. Warm amber eyes. A dimpled smile. 

A smile spreads across my face. “Seth! What are you doing here?” My smile won’t stop and communicates with the rest of my body that it needs to get involved in the joy. My heart hammers against my ribs. My face heats.  

He looks like high school Seth, but different. Older. Slightly crooked nose, mouth with perfectly proportional lips that cut adorable dimples into his cheeks when he smiles which he does now. Light brown hair—darker now— styled so that wavy locks stray across his forehead. He’s still taller than me.

My heart adds a hot hum of awareness in my chest. 

Because he’s my friend, I tell myself. One I haven’t seen him in a long time.