Behind the Scenes

What doesn’t make it into the page—but shapes it

The Perils of the Pen: Real Problems Only Writers Understand

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment
A wide-eyed writer in pink striped pajamas sits cross-legged on a bed, surrounded by books, notes, and a glowing cup of tea. Behind her, a wall is covered in pinned plot notes, and a black cat lounges nearby, watching her work. Sunlight filters through cozy curtains in a book-filled room.
When inspiration strikes… in the middle of a mess, three plot twists, and a cat nap. Just another day in the writer life.

Ah, writing. That noble art of bleeding onto the page, fueled by caffeine, chaos, and the occasional existential crisis. From the outside, it looks whimsical… typewriters, cozy cafés, and leather bound notebooks. But inside? It’s a swirling storm of self-doubt, wild imagination, and the eternal question: “Did I save that draft?”

Let’s pull back the curtain and talk about the truth. Here are the real challenges (and secret joys) of being a writer… with sass, sympathy, and a few cat hairs thrown in.

“What do you do all day?”

Let’s start with the classic. You tell someone you’re a writer and they either ask what your real job is or assume you spend your days sipping lattes and waiting for inspiration to arrive like it’s an Uber Eats order.

Reality: We’re researching medieval plumbing, rewriting the same paragraph for three hours, and emotionally recovering from a one-star Goodreads review we weren’t supposed to read (but totally did).

Also, our web browsing history could make the FBI blush and call in backup. Because yes, we needed to know how long it takes a body to decompose in a swamp and the tensile strength of spider silk. It’s called research, Karen.

Effect: Professional guilt. You always feel like you should be writing. Even at weddings. Even while sick. Even while binge-watching a show for research purposes.

Plot Bunnies Are Real (and They Bite)

Writers don’t just have ideas, we have too many. They multiply like rabbits. You’ll be working on a serious piece of literary fiction, and suddenly your brain says, “What if dragons ran a bakery?” And just like that, your outline is on fire and your protagonist now has scales and a sourdough starter.

Effect: Chronic distraction. Also an ever-growing document labeled “Misc Ideas DO NOT OPEN.” (We open it. Every time.) Our desks are littered with notebooks that don’t fit in our bags, our purses carry pens like they’re talismans, and the walls are covered in slips of paper pinned with plot twists from three different stories… none of which we’re currently working on.

A tired-looking writer in a pink sweater stares blankly at her laptop, surrounded by glowing, fluffy bunnies that float around a cluttered writing desk. Notes and papers swirl through the air as more sticky notes cover the corkboard behind her.
Plot bunnies don’t just multiply… they riot. And apparently, they bring glitter.

Your Personal Life? What Personal Life?

You cancel plans because you’re “on a roll” and then sit in front of your screen crying because the roll never showed up. You forget how to talk to non-fictional people. And if someone interrupts a good writing flow, may the muses have mercy on their soul.

Effect: Strained relationships with friends, partners, and delivery drivers who witness your descent into hoodie-clad madness. Your characters become your best friends. And yes, you’ve argued with them. Out loud.

On the flip side, the friends who stick around? They learn to never ask, “So how’s the writing going?” unless they’re prepared for an unsolicited, 20-minute download of plot drama, character profiles, and existential rants about timeline inconsistencies. Bless their patient, story-supporting hearts.

Pets Are Both Your Muse and Your Menace

Cats will nap across your keyboard. Dogs will stare at you like you’ve betrayed them for not going outside. Ferrets will steal your pens. Your pet is either the reason you’re writing or the reason you haven’t written in three days.

Effect: 80% of your photos involve a sleeping animal and an open notebook. The other 20% are screenshots of something you wrote while being guilt-tripped by puppy eyes. And let’s be honest, more often than not, those furry freeloaders end up as characters or get cheeky references in your work. Every good writer has at least one fictional animal sidekick inspired by their real life chaos goblin.

A writer lays on her stomach in a cozy room, staring at her laptop while a fluffy black cat lounges on her notes and a wide-eyed dog watches her intently. Stacks of paper, coffee mugs, and plants surround them.
Your plot isn’t the only thing demanding attention. Meet the true editors: distraction and derp.

That One Glorious Line Makes It Worth It

Despite the chaos, the imposter syndrome, the draft that looks like it was written by a sleep-deprived raccoon… there’s magic. That one sentence that lands perfectly. That reader who messages you to say your words meant something. That moment when your characters surprise you.

Effect: Pure, unfiltered joy. And the strength to open that doc again tomorrow. Of course, once the high wears off, the spiral begins: was that line really that good? Maybe it was too dramatic. Too subtle. Too much? You reread it twelve times, fight the urge to tweak it, and end up questioning your entire existence as a writer, again. But you leave it. For now.

Creative Burnout Is Real

Some days the words flow like a dream. Other days, your brain is cooked oatmeal and you can’t remember how dialogue even works. Burnout doesn’t show up with a flashing neon sign… it sneaks in with empty coffee mugs, excessive scrolling, and the sudden belief that every story idea you’ve ever had is garbage.

Effect: You start questioning everything, your talent, your plot, your life choices, and why you thought writing a 9-book fantasy epic was a good idea. You feel like a fraud with a to-do list.

Fix: Take a break. Go outside. Touch some grass (or at least your shower curtain). Creativity needs breathing room, and you are not a word producing machine. You are a weird, glorious human with a story to tell.

The Emotional Damage Is Self Inflicted

Yes, you cried writing that character death. No, you will not be taking constructive criticism at this time. Writing is vulnerability in Word Doc form, and it hits hard.

Effect: You mourn fictional people like they paid rent. You experience glee and rage and existential pain over scenes that no one else has even read yet. You reread your own emotional breakdowns just to see if you can make yourself cry again. (Spoiler: you can.) And let’s not forget the emotional chaos we gleefully inflict on our readers… laughing maniacally as we write their favorite character’s demise like some keyboard wielding goblin of heartbreak.

The Rewards Still Make It Worth It

For all the nonsense, there’s still nothing like it. That rush when a story clicks. That “aha!” moment when a plot twist hits just right. That email from a reader who got it.

Effect: Eternal hope. Delusional optimism. A burning need to keep doing it even when it makes no sense. Writing is messy, exhausting, and beautiful. Just like every good story.

Even when the plot’s gone rogue, the word count mocks you, and your characters are staging a coup, you still come back. You wrestle with self doubt, second guess your best lines, and rewrite the same sentence five different ways but you’re still here. Because something inside you knows that buried in the chaos is a spark worth chasing.

And when the spark catches? That’s where the magic lives. That’s what makes it worth every hair pulling, chocolate consuming, keyboard pounding moment.

A delighted writer sits cross-legged in front of a glowing laptop that reads "save." She throws her arms up in joy while a black cat and mugs of tea surround her. Warm, magical lighting fills the cozy room.
When the scene sings, the dialogue slaps, and you actually remembered to save. Bliss.

Final Thought

Being a writer isn’t about sipping wine in Paris while wearing a beret (though if that’s your vibe, no judgment). It’s about showing up, putting words on the page, and laughing through the chaos. So embrace the pet hair, the imposter syndrome, and the 3 a.m. writing sprints.
You’re not alone. You’re just a writer.

What’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve researched for a story? Or what’s your favorite pet writing moment? Tell me in the comments!

Wind Rider Wednesday Update: Now Coming to You Twice a Month!

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment
A dramatic storybook-style illustration of a Wind Rider standing on a rooftop at dusk, overlooking a sky filled with glowing red-orange storm clouds. A massive cloud-beast looms over a distant city below, while a dragon-like creature glides nearby. The mood is tense, otherworldly, and full of looming danger.
The skies may be beautiful but they’re never boring. Welcome to the Wind Rider world, where chaos is part of the forecast.

Let’s talk about my favorite little monster: worldbuilding.

It’s ambitious. It’s all consuming. It’s the reason I currently have lore docs bigger than most small town phone books. And it’s exactly why Wind Rider Wednesday is shifting gears.

As of now, Wind Rider Wednesday will be a twice-a-month feature instead of weekly… because if I keep building the skies at this rate, I’ll have a 300-page encyclopedia and no actual book to show for it.

Don’t worry, the chaos isn’t going anywhere. The skies are still brimming with floating islands, found family vibes, sky beasts, and emotional damage. You’ll just be getting all that goodness in slightly slower, biweekly doses so I can focus more on actually telling the story, not just mapping every Drift down to its laundry lines.

Thanks for following along with me! Whether you’re here for lore, character breakdowns, or random skyfruit facts, I’m so glad you’re enjoying the Wind Riders ride.

Next post is already in the works… see you in the skies!

Why Does Editing Feel Like Betraying My Past Self?

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment

You ever open an old draft, read the first paragraph, and immediately want to apologize to everyone you’ve ever loved?

Welcome to the emotional rollercoaster that is editing your own writing. It’s a journey full of secondhand embarrassment, self-reflection, and occasional breakthroughs… but hey, that’s the life.

Whimsical storybook illustration of a frustrated blonde writer sitting at a desk surrounded by flying manuscript pages, with a rollercoaster twisting behind her.
Editing your own writing: part progress, part panic, all emotional whiplash.

I recently got hit by the ‘I must reorganize my desk’ bug and unearthed a relic from my writing past. An old fanfic, fairly well received on fanfiction.net back in the day (and no, I will not tell you what fandom). On re-read? Absolutely horrible. The kind of cringe that triggers an instant existential crisis. I promptly stuffed the notes into the back of the drawer, where they will remain untouched until the heat death of the universe.

On paper (no pun intended), editing is a noble process. It’s about refining, polishing, and getting your book baby ready to face the world. But in practice? It feels like breaking up with a version of yourself who really, really thought they nailed it.

The First Draft Delusion

The first draft you? Starry-eyed. Passionate. Convinced you’re writing the next literary masterpiece. You didn’t need structure, you had vibes. Your dialogue was “quirky,” your metaphors were “bold,” and your pacing was… somewhere.

I once used the descriptor “he purred” five times in a single chapter. Five. A friend kindly asked if the love interest had transformed into a cat mid-conversation. At the time, I thought it was swoon worthy. In hindsight? Less purr, more yikes.

And then you, Version 2.0, show up with your red pen and your iced coffee and your “why is this chapter 3,000 words too long?” energy. Suddenly it’s not a love story. It’s a crime scene.

Storybook-style image of a dreamy blonde writer gazing at her laptop with sparkly thought bubbles of two attractive men, a smug black cat by her side.
Ah yes, the first draft… when everything felt romantic, sparkly, and only mildly unhinged.

Editing Is Time Travel

Editing isn’t just fixing commas, it’s reading the ghost of writer past and wondering who handed them a keyboard. It’s seeing that one emotional scene you poured your soul into… and realizing it reads like a melodramatic soap opera scripted by a sleep-deprived raccoon.

I used to have a serious issue with alliteration, either there was way too much or absolutely none at all. I’d start a paragraph with plain old ‘he said’ and ‘she said’ and by the end, it read like Dickens and Dostoyevsky got into a bar fight with a thesaurus. I’d also somehow end up completely off-topic from where the story was supposed to be going. Editing those sections felt less like trimming fat and more like untangling a ball of yarn made of metaphors and misfires.

Even when it’s bad, and oh, it’s bad, you have to respect the effort. Because here’s the thing: that raccoon tried. That version of you did the hard part, getting words on the page. You can’t fix what doesn’t exist, and even the cringe bits got you here.

Betrayal or Evolution?

So, is editing betrayal? Maybe it feels like it at first. You’re slicing out characters, rewriting whole arcs, and killing darlings with ruthless precision.

But really? It’s growth. You’re not betraying your past self, you’re honoring them by making the story better than they could alone.

It took me three drafts, two breakdowns, and a playlist called ‘editing rage’ before I realized the side character was actually the main character. My past self thought she was just quirky comic relief. Turns out, she was dragging the whole story behind her like a glittering emotional freight train. You’re tag-teaming with your past self. They wrote the mess. You make it art.

A flustered writer sits at a cluttered desk with wild eyes, surrounded by flying paper, a loaf of bread, a taxidermy owl, and a broken chandelier.
When you find that scene and instantly question all your life choices.

There’s no shame in the facepalms. Every writer has a graveyard of terrible scenes and plot threads that went nowhere. Self-editing often reveals the most ridiculous choices we’ve made and how far we’ve come. I once found a note to myself in the middle of a chapter that just said, “FIX THIS TRASH FIRE BEFORE ANYONE SEES IT.” And I had, in fact, left it exactly as is. The scene was a romantic moment that somehow involved a taxidermied owl, a broken chandelier, and a monologue about bread.

If you can laugh at it now, that means you’ve leveled up.

Editing your own writing hurts because it matters… it’s the ultimate test of writer growth. Because you care. Because you’ve improved.

So pick up that pen, sharpen your delete key, and keep going. Your past self got you this far and now it’s your turn to carry the torch (and maybe burn a few adverbs along the way).

Have you ever reread your early work and wanted to both high-five and strangle yourself? Tell me about your funniest or most painful editing moment in the comments!

A Quick Update from Under the Blankets

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment
A cozy, storybook-style illustration of a sick writer wrapped in blankets on a purple couch, surrounded by tissue piles, tea mugs, and a laptop. A black cat perches on the couch, an orange cat naps nearby, and a fluffy white plot bunny peeks out from under the blanket.
Even sick days have their squad… black cat supervisor, orange cat heating pad, and Barnabas the ever-watchful plot bunny. Blogging may be paused, but the chaos continues.

Hey friends,

Just popping in with a quick update. I’ve come down with something fierce and am currently buried under a mountain of tissues, tea mugs, and regret (for not dodging whatever germ decided to body-slam me this week).

That means blog posts are on a short pause while I rest and recover. I’ll be back at it as soon as I’m upright and slightly less plaguey.

In the meantime, feel free to catch up on any posts you’ve missed and if you’ve got any magical cold remedies, drop them in the comments. (Bonus points if they involve chocolate.)

See you soon, once I’ve won this battle with the microscopic forces of doom.

Stay cozy,
RG

When the Muse Shows Up at the Worst Time (and You Let Her Anyway)

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment
Back view of a female writer at night, seated at a cluttered desk under warm lamplight and glowing string lights, surrounded by open books, scattered papers, and a rainy window
When inspiration strikes at 2AM, you light a candle, grab a pen, and let the chaos spill onto the page.

There I am, brushing my teeth, winding down for the night, and suddenly… BOOM. The Muse shows up. Not with a gentle knock, but with a full-blown marching band of inspiration, complete with jazz hands and fully formed plot twists. Of course, it’s late. Of course, I’m half asleep. And of course, when I wake up in the morning? Poof. Gone. Like a dream you swore you’d remember, but now you’re standing in the kitchen yelling “Nooo!” at your coffee because all that’s left is a ghost of an idea and maybe a few jumbled words like “mirror sword” or “cat uprising.”

I’ve tried dictating into my phone. Once, I actually managed to get an idea down that way, only for a system update to sweep in and delete it into the digital abyss. Thanks, technology. Not to mention, I feel absolutely ridiculous whispering fantasy dialogue to my phone like some sort of bedtime bard, and my poor husband really doesn’t appreciate being woken up by my late night monologues.

Curly-haired blonde woman in pink striped pajamas writing in a notebook while sitting cross-legged on a toilet, toothbrush in mouth, as a wide-eyed black cat watches glowing inspiration stars swirl above
When the muse doesn’t care that it’s 3AM and you’re mid-toothbrush… Carmen supervises anyway.

Back in my commuting days, the muse would hijack my brain while I was stuck in traffic or squished between strangers on the bus. At least then I could jot things down into the notes app, one-handed, with a bagel in the other. These days, working from home means I can keep my laptop open and toss ideas into a doc as they hit. But I definitely don’t do it in front of company. I do have some dignity left, thank you very much.

The absolute worst is when I’m watching something brilliant, like a movie or a play, and my story brain lights up while I sit there unable to take notes. I sit there, vibrating with potential, praying I’ll remember it later. (Spoiler: I usually don’t.)

Before smartphones, I was part of the huge-purse crew and always had a notepad and pen with me. I’ve scribbled ideas on the backs of receipts, on envelopes, once even on a clean-ish napkin during lunch. Desperate times. Inspired minds.

And yes, I try to forgive myself when the idea slips through my fingers. It’s hard. I have to believe it’ll come back. Maybe stronger. Maybe clearer. Maybe not at 2AM this time. The more I chase it, the faster it vanishes, like when you’re trying to remember a word that’s just out of reach. So instead, I try to let it go. And trust that if it mattered, it’ll find me again.

Blonde woman in pink striped pajamas asleep at a cluttered writing desk, head resting on folded arms beside a black cat, open books, a laptop, and a pink coffee mug
Sometimes the muse wins, sometimes exhaustion does. Either way, the cat’s judging you.

Honestly, the Muse is a lot like a skittish puppy. One second she’s climbing all over you with chaotic excitement, the next she’s under the couch refusing to come out. Patience, snacks, and the occasional sacrifice of a quiet evening are usually the best ways to coax her back.

So if you’re out there muttering plot lines into your shampoo bottle or scribbling dialogue on old receipts, you’re not alone. Welcome to the club. We meet at 3AM. Snacks are optional but strongly encouraged.

The Modern Author’s Marketing Maze

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment
Frazzled blonde author in messy bun multitasking at cluttered desk with laptop, black cat, coffee mug, and scattered notes, looking overwhelmed while working late.
When your “writing day” turns into a full-time job juggling social media, newsletters, and that cursed algorithm.

These days, writing the book almost feels like the easy part. Typing “The End” isn’t the finish line. It’s the starting gun for a whole new race. Because if you want people to actually read your story instead of letting it collect digital dust, you’re not just an author anymore. You’re a full blown one person marketing department. Congrats! You’re now the writer, publicist, designer, spokesperson, and hype squad. Hope you brought snacks.

Let’s break down what that glorious chaos looks like.

Overwhelmed blonde writer at desk surrounded by flying social media icons, emails, and notifications, symbolizing digital burnout and author marketing pressure.
When your book’s not even out yet but you’ve already lost three hours to hashtags, inbox pings, and dancing TikToks you might have to recreate.

You need a website that doesn’t look like it crawled out of a 2010 WordPress graveyard. You need a newsletter, because apparently we’re back in 2003 and emails are trendy again. You need to exist on multiple social platforms because nobody agrees on where readers live anymore. TikTok? Threads? Bluesky? Instagram? X? You better be witty, wise, and worth following everywhere. Oh, and you also need to be a video editor, a graphic designer, a community manager, and someone who replies to comments like you’ve got unlimited spoons and an eternal serotonin supply.

And let’s not forget in person events. I’ve been to a few. Sometimes they’re lively and inspiring. Other times, you see authors behind tables with piles of their books and hopeful eyes, trying to smile while strangers awkwardly avoid eye contact. It’s like high school lunch tables all over again, only with more bookmarks. Even book launches, once glamorous milestones, are now DIY marathons. You’re expected to plan the whole thing yourself: giveaways, digital countdowns, themed merch, launch parties. Maybe even a dancing reel if you’re brave enough.

Confident blonde female author sitting at a book fair table, surrounded by stacks of books and smiling at the bustling crowd around her.
Fake it till you make it? More like smile till your face hurts and hope someone asks about your book before the coffee wears off.


Then there’s the dreaded algorithm. A fickle deity who doesn’t care how good your book is or how many nights you cried into your tea over it. It only wants to know: Did you post at peak engagement time while reciting a trending audio and juggling hashtags like a circus act? No? Good luck, sweetheart.

Honestly, it’s a lot. It’s so much. Most of us didn’t get into writing to become online personalities or content creators. We just wanted to tell stories. Not become social media strategists.

So to every author out there showing up anyway, learning one post at a time, facing awkward silences at signings, crafting graphics at midnight, or smiling through the fear—I see you. I admire the hell out of you.

Smiling female writer at her laptop in a cozy, warmly lit room with a sleeping orange cat beside her and a sticky note that says “Be brave.”
This is the goal, right? A quiet moment of joy, a brave heart, and just enough cat hair in the keyboard to prove you’re living the writer’s dream.

And when it’s my turn, I hope I can be just as brave. Because up until now, I’ve only put short stories out into the world. The thought of marketing a whole book? Yeah… it scares the absolute hell out of me.

Excuse Me, Who Gave This Character Free Will?

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment

I’d like to file a complaint with the character department. You know, the one responsible when your fictional characters suddenly develop minds of their own and hijack your carefully plotted outline?

Back view of a blonde haired female writer with her hair in a messy bun, seated at a chaotic desk with coffee mugs, candles, sketches, and scattered notes. Glowing, semi transparent fantasy characters float in midair around her as she writes. A small black cat peers from the corner, adding a hint of whimsy.
POV: You’re trying to write one calm scene and your characters keep staging a dramatic group intervention. Also, yes… there is a cat judging you. Generated by Midjourney

They were supposed to behave. I had charts. I had outlines. I had a playlist that was vibes only. Everything was going great until they started developing opinions. And back stories. And trauma. And suddenly I’m standing in the middle of chapter fourteen yelling, “Excuse me, who gave this character free will?!”

Writers, you know the ones I’m talking about. You start with a nice, manageable story and one delightfully quirky character who’s supposed to fill a very specific supporting role. And then… they go rogue. They hijack emotional arcs. They rewrite their own dialogue. They bring snacks to the plot and refuse to leave.

Take Ailis Larsen and her Ganlani partner, Vaelios. Originally? Vaelios was meant to be the softhearted sidekick, all light and laughter and naive enthusiasm. But then I started writing his scenes. Digging deeper. What started as simple character development quickly turned into something deeper, more layered, more real, more “excuse me, sir, who hurt you?” than I ever planned. And boom! There he was, sharp as obsidian, wittier than I had any right to make him, and carrying a quiet, bone deep grief that made me double take in my own draft. He is still sweet. But now he’s also the type of character who’ll gut you emotionally in one line and then offer you a handkerchief like a gentleman.

Or that short story I thought was going to be a fun little magic meets mystery romp. Surprise! The goddess showed up, uninvited, kicked the narrative off its hinges, and delivered a monologue that hit so hard I just sat there blinking like, “…Oh. So we’re doing depth now? Okay.”

And look, I knew I had a problem when I ran a Myers-Briggs Type Indicator test on one of my characters. And it changed everything. Suddenly I wasn’t writing a plot, I was navigating someone’s entire psychological profile like a therapist with deadlines. And yes, I am now slightly obsessed with that character. And no, I will not be taking questions at this time.

Also, to the character who was supposed to be a throwaway NPC but is now demanding their own trilogy: calm down. We’ve talked about this.

Honestly, I think I lost control back in the day when I may or may not have dabbled in fanfiction inspired by a certain velvet wearing, crystal spinning Goblin King. (You know the one.) Ever since, I’ve known deep down that I’m not always the one in charge here.

But let’s be real: that’s the magic of it, isn’t it? Characters come alive when you least expect them to. They surprise you. They talk back. And if you’re really lucky, they change your story into something so much better than what you planned.

Even if no one asked Jared to be hot and emotionally complex.

A cozy illustration of a blonde haired writer slumped asleep at her desk, viewed from behind. Neatly stacked papers and books surround her workspace, lit by soft morning light. A small black cat curls on top of an open book nearby, watching over her.
Sometimes the words win and the writer naps. Don’t worry, the cat’s got this shift. Generated by Midjourney

So, to all the writers out there wrestling your characters back into the box they busted out of three chapters ago… solidarity. May your character arcs be messy, your writing surprises delightful, your plot armor strong, your time lines elastic, and your characters just unhinged enough to be brilliant.

Tell me in the comments: who was your character that went rogue and refused to go back on the shelf?

Mental Health and the Writer’s Block No One Talks About

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment

Some days, writing feels like breathing. Other days, it feels like climbing out of a pillow fort lined with existential dread.

A young blonde girl sits curled up in a large pillow fort, clutching a stuffed dog with a tired, distant expression. A black cat lounges nearby on a pillow. The scene feels cozy but emotionally heavy, suggesting overwhelm and the need for comfort.
Some days, the pillow fort is the only place I can breathe. And that’s okay.

I used to be a prolific writer… songs, fanfiction, original fiction, half thought out plot bunnies scribbled in one of the multitude of pretty notebooks I couldn’t (and still can’t) resist buying. If I had an idea, I followed it. If I didn’t, I still wrote. It was how I moved through the world. Until it wasn’t.

One day, my brain decided I wasn’t good enough.

Not in a dramatic, thunder crack epiphany sort of way. More like a slow fade. I still had ideas, but I couldn’t write them. I couldn’t even talk about them. They hurt. Because I didn’t think I deserved them. Because I didn’t think I could do them justice. Because everything in me whispered, “Why bother? You’ll mess it up.”

That was depression talking. That was anxiety wrapping itself in creative block and hurling it like a weighted blanket over everything I loved.

So I stopped. And I stayed stopped for longer than I want to admit.

Eventually, I got therapy. I started learning how to untangle the mental noise. Techniques to quiet the inner critic. To write a sentence without needing it to be perfect. To remind myself that ideas don’t have expiration dates.

I started writing again.

Not like before. Not all at once. But in soft, small ways. A line here. A scene there. A journal entry that accidentally turned into a short story. I came back.

But I still have bad days.

I still have days when the world is too much and the stories feel far away. I still crawl back into my pillow fort, surrounded by fuzzy blankets, stuffed animals, and a very patient cat who purrs like she knows I’m trying. I don’t feel guilty about those days anymore.

Because now I know: rest is part of the process.

Self care is writing adjacent.

Ideas don’t vanish just because you need a break and bad words are still better than no words because editing exists and perfection is a myth anyway.

If you’re in the pillow fort right now, I see you.

You’re not broken. You’re just resting.

A steaming mug of tea rests beside an open notebook on a soft bed. Sunlight pours through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. A black cat sleeps on a pile of blankets, evoking quiet comfort and the gentle return to creativity.
This is what healing looks like, sunlight, stillness, and the quiet promise that the words will come back.

And when you’re ready, your stories will still be there, waiting.

If this post spoke to you, share it with another writer who might need a little reminder: the stories will still be there. And so will you.

Writing to Trend vs. Writing for Love: Which Path Works?

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment

Hey fellow writers and book lovers,

Here’s the question gnawing at my brain lately: Should authors chase the trends, or stay true to their muse?

A writer's hand hovers over a softly glowing orb resting on a stack of books. One cat sleeps beside the books while another watches intently from the desk. The scene is dimly lit with a cozy, contemplative atmosphere, evoking creativity and decision-making.
The writer’s dilemma in one image: do you reach for the glowing idea, or follow the cat’s judgmental stare? Generated by Midjourney

Writing to trend means crafting a story that fits the current market buzz, trying to align with what agents, editors, or even readers on BookTok are asking for. Writing to passion? That means chasing the story that won’t leave you alone. The one whispering in your ear at 3AM. The one you’d write even if no one ever read it.

We’ve all seen it. The hot genre of the moment explodes and suddenly everyone’s writing cozy fantasies, romantasy with morally grey love interests, or spicy alien love triangles. And sure, if you hit that wave just right, you might land a publishing deal, an agent, or go viral on BookTok. Remember when dystopian YA ruled everything? Or when vampires were unavoidable? Trends are real, and they move fast. Writing to market can be tempting when you’re hoping to get traditionally published.

But what if your heart is pounding for a story that doesn’t quite fit the current mold?

I’ve been wrestling with this exact thing. My Wind Riders series is world built, beloved, and fully alive in my head. Floating sky islands, brave aerial scouts riding their bonded companions through dangerous wind currents, strange corrupted storms, found family, sacrifice, grief, hope… I love the characters. I love the setting. I love the vibe.

Floating stone islands connected by rope bridges hang suspended in a glowing sky above the clouds, evoking a sense of magic, distance, and longing.
This is the world that still hums in the back of my mind… untethered, alive, and waiting. Generated by Midjourney

But I can see that it might not be trending right now. So I’ve been wondering… should I shelve it and try to develop something trend friendly? Something that better aligns with current book publishing trends or what’s hot on BookTok?

The thing is, the trend friendly story I’m eyeing? I genuinely love it too. It’s not just a shallow attempt to chase what’s hot, it’s been simmering in my brain for years, just waiting for its moment.

I won’t give away too much (yet), but it involves a woman grappling with a life she didn’t ask for, powers she doesn’t want, and a world that suddenly won’t leave her alone. There’s danger, heartache, and one very sarcastic cat who heckles her with the same intensity my cat Carmen reserves for whatever food I’m currently trying to eat. This one just happens to tick more of the boxes traditional publishing is looking for right now, especially if you’re writing with the market in mind.

A woman with messy blonde hair stands at a fork in a forest path. One side is dark and shadowy, the other glows with warm magical light. A ginger cat walks ahead toward the glowing path.
Standing at the crossroads between heart and hustle. The cat, of course, already knows which way to go. Generated by Midjourney

So what do we do?

Do we write what sells? Do we write to market to improve our chances of getting published? Or do we write what sings?

Is it possible to do both?

Maybe there’s a hybrid path. Maybe we shape a passion project just a little more toward trend. Or we self publish what we love and query the marketable one. Maybe the trick is figuring out which story needs to be told right now, and which one can wait for its moment.

This post isn’t me giving you answers. It’s me asking questions. Honest ones. Because I think a lot of us are stuck here, especially those of us trying to navigate the publishing industry.

I want to know what you think.

Have you ever paused a beloved project because it wasn’t “sellable”? Or shelved something that felt like screaming into the void? Have you followed the market and found success or regret?

Are you team write-what-you-love, team write-to-sell, or somewhere tangled in between?

Drop your thoughts in the comments. Let’s talk about it.

Fixing Plot Holes in Fantasy Writing (with Help From the Next Generation)

/ RG Newhouse / Leave a comment

I was elbows deep in Wind Riders fantasy worldbuilding, notes everywhere, cats prowling, tea long forgotten, when my daughter wandered in and casually asked, “What are you working on?”

A cluttered writer’s desk filled with open notebooks, fantasy maps marked with red string, scribbled notes, scattered books, and a cup of tea under a warm lamp. The scene evokes cozy chaos and deep worldbuilding focus.
Where the chaos begins… notes, tea, and the occasional cat. (Image created by Midjourney)

What followed was a two-hour lore-dump-turned-interrogation that felt like a surprise writing sprint disguised as a conversation. Nyx the cat was displaced so she could take a seat (and gave us both the look of betrayal only a black cat can muster, complete with a drawn out whine of protest. Poor baby.), but the moment she sat down and started asking questions, something clicked… and kept clicking.

We talked through the Cataclysm, the rise of the Riders, the floating islands, and the process of fixing plot holes and developing stronger character arcs, bringing life to story ideas that had been gathering dust. The next thing we knew, two hours had passed. By the time we looked up, we’d unraveled the antagonist arc, reshaped a love interest dynamic, and, somehow, figured out how the first book ends.

I’m not going to tell you that part. Not yet. But I will say that somewhere between her raised eyebrow and my rambling, I realized something big: this isn’t a standalone story.

It’s a trilogy.

What started as a standalone suddenly stretched its wings. There were too many threads, too much heart, to wrap in one book. And somehow, that made it all feel more real.

You know that feeling when a puzzle piece slots in and suddenly the whole picture shifts into focus? That. It reminded me how powerful it is to talk things out with someone who isn’t inside your head. I’ve always been a worldbuilding-first kind of writer (you can read more about that here), but getting outside input shook loose some things I didn’t even realize were stuck. Bouncing ideas off someone who isn’t emotionally attached to that one scene you refuse to cut, or the backstory you secretly wrote five pages for? Invaluable.

A whimsical sky town perched on a large floating island above the clouds. Wooden bridges, windmills, lanterns, and rustic buildings glow in soft golden light as birds soar across the sky.
The kind of place my Wind Riders would call home… lanterns, walkways, and just enough altitude to make things interesting. (Image created by Midjourney)

And when that someone gets into it too? Starts pitching scenes back at you like a pro? It’s like biting into a story filled bonbon, surprising, rich, and just the right kind of sweet.

So yes, I got grilled today. Lovingly. And the result is a better story, a clearer arc, and a brain that’s buzzing with the kind of excitement that only comes from brainstorming a fantasy trilogy that finally works.

(Nyx remains unimpressed. I owe her a treat. Worth it.)