How I Got to Hawaiʻi, My Hawaiʻi Story

In Honor of Pacific IslanDER Heritage Month

There are quite a few stories about people coming to Hawaiʻi to visit, then never leaving. Hawaiʻi is an amazing place, so I can understand the attraction (though I do have mixed feelings about it). My story, however, is a little different…

When I was eighteen, I went off to college. Ah hem. Okay fine. I didn’t even leave my hometown. I enrolled at my local college, started going to classes, and was well on my way to flunking out—yeah. I had no idea why I was there— when I met a guy. In hindsight, that exact reason was probably why I was initially there (which is a completely different story). His name was Vince, he played football for our college, and he was *Hawaiian from **Hawaiʻi. 

*Quick lesson No. 1: I’m from Oregon. And as with most states in the United States, we tack on an  -ian at the end of the world to indicate our state of origin. I was born and raised an Oregonian, for example. The same isn’t true for Hawaiʻi. People who live in Hawaiʻi aren’t indicatively Hawaiian, even those who were born and raised here. Hawaiians are a native group of people who are indigenous to Hawaiʻi. It’s disrespectful, then, to say that just because I’m from Hawaiʻi that I’m Hawaiian. I am not. The proper term would be to say I am “local”. For an interesting take on the origin of being a “local” in Hawaiʻi pick up John Rosa’s book: Local Story: the Massie-Kahahawai Case and the Culture of History.

*Quick lesson No. 2: I used to pronounce Hawaii as (Hah-why-ee). That, my friends, is incorrect. The correct way to pronounce this amazing place is Hawaiʻi (Huh-vī-ee—making sure that second sound—vī—is short and sturdy).

Long story short, after Vince and I dated, eventually making things exclusive, the school we were attending dropped the football program. Vince decided to transfer to play football for another school and suggested I transfer with him. I may not have known why I was in school yet, but I did like the guy. Why not? So off we went.

I did finally figure out why I was in school—majored in English—and we continued dating while we went to school. Our relationship turned into the five-year variety, and we got married in 1997. And then I moved to Hawaiʻi (did you say it right?) that same year. Married for nearly 26 years now, I’ve lived in Hawaiʻi longer than I lived in Oregon. I am so grateful to call Hawaiʻi home.

(You can find this post on Substack, here.)


You Can Go Home Again

You know that party question: would you go back to high school? It often creates an either-or dichotomy: Hell no! Or Absofuckinlutely! For the last eight weeks, I went back to high school. Okay, not as a student, but rather as a long-term substitute teaching English to 9th grade students. Given I taught English for over twenty years, this wasn’t a stretch, but after nearly three years outside of a traditional classroom working instead as a full-time author, it was a refresher in all things teen and work life. This, my friends, is what I learned returning to the classroom.

First, kids are kids no matter the year. Granted, the 13-and-14-year-old students I was attempting to impart wisdom about Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet were eleven when they were forced home for Covid. So their sixth-and-seventh-grade years (a primary time in learning communication skills) were spent behind computer screens (and believe me it showed). I got them journals to decorate and make their own and each class we spent writing for the first ten minutes. Then—to practice our social skills—we “turned and talked” and like any teen, they fell right into that activity. It took a bit of time to get them to share with one another, but after a week or so, it began to feel safe, normal even. Teens are awesome people. They’re funny, they’re pragmatic, they’re focused (on what they’re interested in), and like all people, they're social. 

Sometimes I get so far into my head, I forget the socialization part of life. I’m a self-professed introvert. I am content in my home, in the space I’ve made for myself, in the routine that I’ve created to address my work (writing, editing, book life, and taking care of the dogs and cats). I’m content to text with my friends and set the phone down. This isn’t a knock on my friends or human interaction in general, just a truth about my identity. I am content being alone. But walking into the classroom and observing the students reminded me how important socialization is. How critical it is to interact with others in order to grow my perspective, challenge my norms, push me outside of the comfort zone. I’m better for it. Just like the students, I have to make time to “turn and talk”.

“Make the time to ‘turn and talk’.”
— Cami Walters-Nihipali

Second, I remembered immediately how much mental capacity is necessary to be a teacher. Goodness gracious. There’s creative work of designing the curriculum and making sure it’s got enough critical-thinking meat as well as age-appropriate relevance. Then there’s the creativity in doing the same for each class-period lesson. Then there’s the all-encompassing act of assessment, whether it's the informal observation in the classroom, the formative assignments, or the summative tasks to showcase skill growth, a teacher is always “on” both inside and outside of the classroom, and it’s exhausting. From the classroom management, to the planning and assessment for each learner, to the research—and while I didn’t have to attend all those meetings—there are all those meetings that really have nothing to do with the day-to-day job, but the bigger picture of teaching and learning. 

I had a conversation with one of my former colleagues (yes, this is the school where I used to work full time before leaving to write full time) who expressed the day-to-day struggle. Having been teaching for fifteen years, *they indicated a sense of bone-weary exhaustion. Is it a wonder? The amount of mental capacity it takes to do the job coupled with the struggle of external perception that “teachers don’t do enough” along with administrations who add to the plate for “accountability” is not only disheartening, but drains the well dry.

When I sit down at my writing desk everyday, I feel joy. The act of creating, of telling a story or sharing my thoughts, is fulfilling. I might be poor, but I am so content doing this work. And while that creativity does draw from the well, this is a choice I make each day. I’m accountable to myself, to my own perception of what’s going to build and present my best work. This conversation with my colleague reminded me how unfulfilled I felt as a teacher. Don’t get me wrong, there were absolute moments of fulfillment. That moment when all the work that went into that unit and specific lesson hit all the right notes, when I got that student essay that nailed it, when I had a real conversation with a student that helped them through something, or the plethora of moments with colleagues when we laughed and planned and continued through the struggle together. But overall, my mind was always thinking about writing. Makes sense—it was what I was born to do.  And that—time spent pursuing my passion—is so affirming.

“You canʻt ever go home again”
— Thomas Wolfe, novelist 1940

Finally, Thomas Wolfe in his 1940 novel by the same title wrote, “You can’t ever go home again.” I disagree with the sentiment. We need to go home again. It’s true that when we return home, we return with a new perspective, therefore we aren’t able to capture that experience with the sameness of our memories. It’s impossible because we are changed. New perspective allows you to see with new eyes, while at the same time grounding you to something familiar. Returning to my former school allowed me this renewal. I returned with three years of independent authorship and entrepreneurship added to my vitae, and while that impacted my experience of walking back into the classroom, being a teacher again offered me the familiar feeling of being good at something once more when authorship doesn’t provide that immediate feedback. 

As I was standing in the hallway greeting students as they passed, welcoming my students to the classroom, one of the vice principals walked past. It was my last official day in the classroom, and we exchanged chatter about it. *They continued on, but then stopped and backtracked toward me once more. “I wanted to tell you,” they started and expounded about a teacher group I was a part of with them before I left. We reminisced about the power of that group, and the change we were able to enact because of our work. Then they said, “All that to say, you made a big difference in our school. Thank you.”

I don’t take compliments well. Never have (Iʻm sure there’s a bunch of psychology behind this), and I felt speechless. It was such a nice thing to say, and this person didn’t have to backtrack to offer it to me. I walked into the classroom, pondering it. I think perhaps I even attempted to discount it, but it couldn’t be dismissed. I had to take that sweet sentiment and allow it to bolster me. And it did. It reminded me that risk-taking for the greater good is a very important part of my identity.  So perhaps you can’t go home again unchanged, but home often has a way of reaffirming ourselves and strengthening our purpose.

So, friends, I return to my writing desk full time, surrounded by my furry co-workers—Ruby, Haupia, Cheese, and Happy—ready to face the quiet of my writing life, excited to face it, and grateful for having taken the time away to refill the well in a different capacity. 


A heads up:

I will be moving over to SubStack for additional content. While you’ll still have access to this weekly blog, perhaps consider subscribing to my substack for up-to-date news and additional writing excerpts meant to entertain.

*They denotes a singular person and is used to protect their identity.

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Cantos Love: Gabe

I just recently returned from a trip home… my first home, I should say, Oregon. It was a visit with family. reconnecting with many people I hadn’t seen in years. The trip made me think of Gabe, of The Bones of Who We Are and his mental and emotional journey back in time. (Definitely check the trigger warnings if you dive into that book). There’s a saying that “you can’t go home” again… and maybe that’s true in the sense when you do return home you are changed . . . but I do think there is power in returning home—just like any hero’s journey and the return with the elixir (in this case knowledge and experience).

As I write this—March 21—it’s Gabe’s birthday—and I’m on an airplane returning to my new home. I am getting ready to dive into the next newsletter installment of The Wedding Assignment (in which he returns with everyone else from The Cantos Chronicles). I’m having a lot of fun writing these characters as adults, but you can only read it in the newsletter.

Want to read more Gabe?

Here’s a link to the letters (his is included here).

Here’s a bunch of posts I put together when I first marketed this story (the cover is different!)

An aesthetic

5 Thinks to Know About Gabe and 5 More Facts and 5 Reason Gabe thinks he’s a monster

The Story and Different Kinds of Love

Teens and Depression and Gabe

Gabe and Poetry

Cantos Love: A Month of Cantos

It’s Cantos Month!  Three years ago this month, The Cantos Chronicles were rereleased with their new covers! 

And last year, The Messy Truth About Love came out, adding to the Cantos World.

Did you know that I’m writing a serialized story in my newsletter called The Wedding Assignment about Abby and Gabe? 

Want access to this story? Sign up for my newsletter. (sign up here)

I’m having a ton of fun, and to celebrate, I wanted to spend the month highlighting some fun bits about these books from reader thoughts to background fun. Be sure to comment and tell me what you’d like to know more about.

Behind-the Scenes: The Trials of Imogene Sol

I promised the story behind The Ring Academy: The Trials of Imogene Sol. So here it is. 

At the end of 2019, I had just released The Bones of Who We Are, and in the in between before a new project was discovered, I decided I wanted to both have fun with writing, develop my craft, challenge myself, and include the people who followed me on Instagram. In my stories, I asked my followers to vote on what they were interested in me writing by choosing their top categories for me to mash up. The winning categories were SciFi and Romance (which is probably much better suited to Maci Aurora than CL Walters, but this was before Maci Aurora made the scene). Thereby, Imogene Sol was created. At the end of 2019, I wrote several chapters, but in early 2020 (pre-pandemic), after a trip to the hospital for an emergency gallbladder surgery, I lost the thread of the story.

For the next nine months, Imogene Sol’s story sat. Toward the end of 2020 in the midst of lockdown, I decided to look at Imogene’s story again, knowing I needed something for my newsletter and wondering if it might be something to include. I wrote another draft—a complete one—and published it in my newsletter in 2021 as a serialized story. 

As I worked on publishing The Messy Truth About Love in 2022, I knew I didn’t have the creative bandwidth to write a new novel yet. So I decided to strengthen The Trials of Imogene Sol with a revision and publish it as a novella, hoping for a bit more time to refill the creative well. I was aware the story needed a few more scenes to help it feel more complete, but knew that could be done given the amount of time I was providing myself.

Now, three months into rewriting, it turns out there is enough story for a novel—and a fun one at that. I’m in the process of the first revision (after the drafted rewrite and armed with some feedback). With a few new scenes still to write, the book is nearing the 50,000 word mark. Shorter than most of my novels, but still considered a full length novel. For comparison, Swimming Sideways topped out around 82,000 give or take a few words and The Messy Truth About Love was around 95,000 words. My longest novel is The Stories Stars Tell which altogether is around 135,000 words give or take (very long for a contemporary).

Besides the length of the story, the biggest difference is the category. All my books up to this point have been contemporary stories with the exception of The Ugly Truth and The Bones of Who We Are which while still mostly contemporary, both contain elements of magical realism. Imogene Sol’s story is going to be the biggest change. 

Set on a planet in an interplanetary federation, Imogene’s story takes place at a Federation Academy called The Ring Academy during her final year. She’s competing for job placement in the Federation, only it becomes very clear that someone is after her, and it isn't just her job on the line but her life. This story is going to be more plot driven than many of my other stories, but there’s still an important emphasis on interpersonal relationships, including a budding romance. While not strictly science fiction, I’d label it more space opera, or a subcategory of science fiction that emphasizes space warfare while capitalizing on the melodrama of high-stakes and high risk adventure, interpersonal relationships, and romance. A famous example of a space opera is Star Wars.

Ultimately, I am enjoying the opportunity to write outside the “norm” of what I’ve offered so far in stories I’ve published. I absolutely adore contemporary stories, but I am also a huge fan of other categories. Imogene Sol isn’t the last story you will get from me that steps outside the bounds of contemporary stories. I hope you are as excited about that as I am.

The Ring Academy: The Trials of Imogene Sol is scheduled for publication on August 1, 2023.

Behind-the-Scenes: Reading & All My Rage

An important part of my process as a writer is reading. I’ve mentioned this before… repeatedly. Reading across genre and category on a continuum from amazing reads to mediocre to needs so much work is a powerful tool. This practice helps me with my own craft and style. It helps me see amazing author choices and technique, to varied narrative structures, to how not to approach writing. All powerful lessons.

Some of my auto-buy authors.

Every once in a while I come across a book that blows me away. These books are the ones that linger long after I’ve closed the book. They make it hard to sleep because I’m thinking about the characters and the dilemma. They make me want to slow down and savor them, but I can’t help but burn through it page after page because I need to know what happens. These are the books whose authors have a way with words that somehow connects with my bones and takes up residence in my marrow. Language so powerful that it somehow changes my DNA.  

I want to share these books with you, so here we go. The first one this year is All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir.

All My Rage sat on my shelf since its release in 2022. I preordered it. Got a signed copy. Tahir is one of my favorite authors, and I have made the claim that Ember in the Ashes series is one of the best YA fantasy works I have ever read. And still All My Rage sat on my TBR shelf and sat and sat. Why? I knew I was going to love it,  and I didn’t want it to be over. So rather than read it, knowing it was there waiting for when I was ready was comforting. Do you know what I mean?

Well, I finally pulled it from the shelf as my first read of 2023. I was right. I knew what it would be, how I would feel reading it. All My Rage is magic (and an award winner. It deserves all the awards!).

The story follows Noor and Salahudin during their senior year in the small town of Juniper. While they are in a fight and avoiding one another, the failing health of Salahudinʻs mom brings them back together. As they navigate the complicated and painful landscape of their lives, they can count on one another to weather the awful storms each of them face. But when circumstances tear them apart, they find themselves clinging to a solitary life preserver. Will they be able to find their way back to one another?

Tahir has a way with words that burrows under your skin. Her ability to get right to the heart of a thought with succinct clarity is powerful. She creates characters that are flesh and bone, trapped inside the black and ivory pages, ready to leap fully formed into the world. The narrative is adeptly pieced together revealing truths both ugly and beautiful in a way that isn’t rooted in blame or pain but rather in the matter-of-fact humanness. It is what it is. And yet still offers us a slice of hope that we can navigate the uglier parts to find the beautiful.

All My Rage is a tapestry layered with themes of grief, addiction, anger, abuse, racism, and poverty. A tour de force, this is a story that conveys the truth. From being a teen, to being caught by one’s circumstances, to finding love, to giving and accepting forgiveness, Tahir’s All My Rage captures the beauty of the human spirit in all it’s flaws and all its beauty. 

When I closed the book with tears in my eyes, I wanted to read it for the first time… again. I had experienced something great. A work of perfection that I needed to share. All My Rage is everything, and the very reason I am in love with stories, with reading, and with writing.