This past year was messy.

It was my first year releasing a book, which meant learning the publishing process the hard way—figuring out what actually works for me, what doesn't, and where I was burning energy for no real return.

At the same time, going on disability and stepping away from traditional work changed the shape of my days.  Time blurred together.  My moods were inconsistent.  And more often than I like to admit, I was forcing myself to write when the desire simply wasn't there.

More than anything, this year was about learning—often by doing things the wrong way first.

I learned how much work happens after the writing is done: formatting, revisions, publishing platforms, distribution decisions, marketing realities, and the constant small administrative tasks that don't look like "being an author" but absolutely are.

I also learned that my creative rhythm doesn't respond well to pressure.  Treating writing like a task to be completed on command, rather than something that needs the right conditions, led to resistance instead of progress.  The more I tried to force output, the harder it became to stay connected to the work itself.

By the end of the year, it became clear that this wasn't about a lack of discipline or commitment—it was about building a process that actually fits the life I'm in now, not the one I used to have.

Forcing consistency when the foundation wasn't stable didn't work.

Trying to maintain momentum by pushing through low-energy days only made the work feel heavier over time.  Instead of building flow, it created friction—and that friction turned into frustration, stalled progress, and tasks quietly piling up while I was too burnt out to address them.

I also underestimated how much adjustment it would take to shift into this phase of life.  Treating it like a simple change in schedule, rather than a full structural shift, led to expectations that weren't realistic or fair.

What I'm carrying forward into the new year is a clearer understanding of how I work best—and a willingness to respect it.

That means prioritizing depth over volume, and alignment over forced consistency.  It means letting projects develoip at a pace that supports the work instead of exhausting the person doing it.

I'm also carrying forward the lessons from my first release: the importance of building systems that are sustainable, learning when to pause instead of push, and recognizing that progress doesn't always loo linear from the outside.

Most importantly, I'm choosing to work with the life I'm in now, rather than constantly mreasuring myself against expectations that no longer fit.

Going into the new year, I'm being more intentional about what I commit to—and what I don't.

Updates, releases, and behidn the scenes work may not follow a rigid or predictable schedule.  That isn't a lack of follow-through; it's a deliberate shift toward working sustainability instead of burning out and disappearing entirely.

Working this way also means that some things will take longer than they might appear from the outside.  Tasks may queue up, priorities may shift, and progress may be quieter at times—but that doesn't mean work isn't happening, or that things are being abandoned.

The goal isn't immediacy.  It's follow-through that actually lasts.  I'd rather move forward steadily than rush, and have to start over again.

I'm heading into the new year with a smaller set of goals, and they're intentionally quiet.

A lot of my focus will be on tending to what already exists—working through a backlog at a sustainable pace, revisiting projects that deserve more attention, and allowing space for reflection instead of constant production.

I'm also making room to read more, engage with other authors' work, and approach future projects from a place of preparations rather than urgency.  Some of that work will be visible; much of it won't.

This year is less about immediate output and more about laying groundwork that supports cleareer, more intentional creative decisions going forward.

If you're here reading this, thank you.  Not in a performative way, but genuinely.  Your support—whether that's reading, engaging, or choosing to stick around—matters more than constant visibility ever could.

I don't take it lightly that people are willing to follow work that unfolds at a thoughtful pace rather than on demand.  That patience makes it possible for me to create in a way that's honest, sustainable, and worth standing behind.

I'm moving into the new year with clarity, intention, and a quieter sense of direction—and I appreciate those who choose to walk alongside that instead of pushing for speed.

I've added a new membership tier to my website: Shadow Lab.

This tier exists for one reason—development.

The Shadow Lab is where my chatbots are tested, broken, reworked, and sometimes scrapped entirely.  Members get early access to experimental bots, alternate scenarios, abandoned concepts, and raw ideas while they're still taking shape.

This is not polished content.
This is not exclusive ownership.
And nothing here is guaranteed to survive.

Shadow Lab members help by testing bots in progress and offering feedback that directly influences how (or if) a bot is released.  Once a bot goes public, it is free for everyone.  Members do not own bots, retain exclusive access, or receive permanent rights to them.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER:
Some chatbots may eventually be adapted into full-length novels or other written works.  Membership in Shadow Lab does not grant ownership, credit, royalties, or creative rights to those adaptations.

What od do get is insight to the process and a chance to shape the final outcome.

Shadow Lab is $5/month.
Low barrier, no long-term commitment, and no pressure to stay if it's not your thing.

If you're curious how my chatbot concepts evolve—or you want to help stress-test ideas before they're released—this tier is for you.

If you're looking for finished content, exclusivity, or collectibles, this is not that tier.

You can find Shadow Lab now on my website.

On October 6, 2025, ALLi asked: Do you have an estate plan for your author business?

I’ll be honest—I’ve never thought about it before.  Writing often feels eternal; our books live online, ready to be discovered long after we’re gone.  But that permanence makes the question impossible to ignore.  What happens to our words when we’re not here to guard them?

The truth is, publishing isn’t just art—it’s a business.  Our rights, royalties, and creative legacy deserve the same care we give every story we craft.  So while I don’t have a plan yet, this question reminded me that I need one.  Because if my words are going to outlive me, I want them protected—not forgotten.

Hi!

Thank you for letting me read your new book!  It's truly amazing to not only write but to publish a full-length novel — so inspiring.  The plot was dynamic and you created some very memorable characters.  Your book gave me a new appreciation for the kind of imagination and courage it takes to write a story like that.  Congratulations on your book!

A handwritten note written on October 24th by my oldest son's Tech School teacher after he borrowed my book.

On September 29, 2025, ALLi asked: Would you consider licensing your books, blog posts, or other content to AI companies?

For me, the hesitation isn’t about licensing itself—it’s about trust.  I’ve learned the hard way, through personal experience, how fragile trust can be once it’s broken.  Companies can make promises on paper, but promises don’t mean much without accountability.  Krafton is a perfect example of how even established businesses fail to hold up their end of agreements.

If that’s the reality with companies working in the open, why should I believe AI firms—operating in secrecy—would be any different?  Once your work leaves your hands, it’s no longer truly yours.  It can be twisted, diluted, or ignored, and you’d have no way to stop it.  For me, the potential damage to my brand and voice outweighs any payout.

On September 22, 2025, ALLi asked: Do you feel confident about your author income?

As of right now, no—I don’t feel confident in it.  Being a new author, my income is still sparse.  If I had kept my book in Kindle Unlimited, I might see something every month, but it would just be change.  The reality is that my husband has had to take on positions at work that he doesn’t want, just to cover what I can no longer manage since my health made me stop working.

It's not an easy answer, but it’s the honest one.  Author income doesn’t always match the effort or passion that goes into the work, especially at the beginning.  For now, I’m focused on building slowly steadily, so the foundation is there when things start to grow.

The holidays are here, and with them comes the usual rush of appointments, paperwork, and the year-end tasks that demand attention.  Between everything going on, I simply don't have the time or focus to keep up with weekly updates or website changes right now.

Rather than posting rushed updates or stretching myself thing, I'm taking a short break from posting and site maintenance until after the holidays.  My plan is to return in January, once things settle and I can give everything the attention it deserves.

Thank you for your patience and continued support.  I'll still be checking in behind the scenes, but active updates will be on hold until the start of the new year.

See you in 2026—rests, recharged, and ready to dive back in.

Áille

On September 15, 2025, ALLi asked: Do you feel in control of your reader relationships, and have platform changes ever made you rethink where you publish or promote?

For me, it’s been a journey.  I started out on Patreon, but a lot of my posts were blocked because of the type of content I write.  It didn’t feel like I was in control of what I could share with readers.  From there, I tried Weebly, but without subscription options, I couldn’t build the gated content I wanted.  Ko-fi came next.  I like it, but the navigation was clunky, and it didn’t make interaction as smooth as I hoped.

Eventually, I landed on Fourthwall, and it’s given me the flexibility I need.  I can offer subscriptions, accept donations, sell merchandise, post blogs, and share behind-the-scenes content with different tiers—all in one place.  On top of that, subscriber discounts and customization options give me freedom to shale the experience for readers the way I want.

I also run a Discord server, which gives readers a more personal way to connect with me and with each other.  Together, these platforms finally let me control what I share, how I engage, and how I grow those relationships without being at the mercy of shifting rules or hidden algorithms.

On September 8th, 2025, ALLi asked: How are you diversifying your author income beyond book sales, and what’s working for you?

For me, diversification has meant building beyond the books themselves.  I set up a merchandise shop on my website where I sell both book-themed items and author brand merch.  On top of that, I created a membership system that gives readers access to story bibles, second and discarded drafts, and other behind-the-scenes content.  I even offer a tier where members can have their names included in the acknowledgments of future books as a personal thank-you for their support.

It's not just about extra income streams—it’s about deepening the connection with readers.  Having multiple ways for them to engage, whether it’s through merchandize, memberships, or future books, creates a stronger bond than book sales alone ever could.