My Journey So Far
Writing a novel was always one of those someday dreams — the kind you mention occasionally with a vague "one day I'd love to write a book," never quite believing the day will come.
Then last year, I started thinking about everything else I'd somehow already pulled off.
I finished my Bachelor of Criminology and Criminal Justice while raising seven children, and then COVID hit and turned "finishing a degree" into homeschooling, lockdowns, and never having a quiet corner of the house to myself. I'm still not entirely sure how I got through it, but I did.
Around that time, one of my twins was diagnosed with autism, and my own plans took a back seat. He needed support, appointments, someone firmly in his corner — and I don't regret a second of it. Watching how far he's come is one of the things I'm proudest of.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, I decided I wanted to be a teacher too. So — because apparently I can't do anything the easy way — I enrolled in a Master of Teaching.
Last year, I added one more thing to the pile: I decided to actually write the novel.
The idea for The Flame Beneath had been floating around for years — a magical academy, a buried secret, a girl who didn't quite belong, an institution hiding something beneath its walls. Just scattered pieces. Eventually I stopped thinking about writing it and started turning those fragments into characters, scenes, a magic system, a plot.
Then I finished it.
Even now, that sentence feels strange to say. Not a few chapters. Not an opening scene left to gather dust in a folder. A whole novel, beginning to end. Something I never actually believed I'd do.
Of course, finishing the draft was only the start.
These days my life is a rotation of work, study, mothering, writing, and placement — "placementing" isn't a real word, but it's the only one that captures how teaching placement swallows every other part of your schedule. I move between lesson plans, uni assignments, school forms, and manuscript edits without always knowing which hat I'm wearing.
And somewhere in there, I'm also trying to become an author — which turns out to mean researching editing, formatting, cover design, ISBNs, Amazon, IngramSpark, newsletters, websites, ARC readers, street teams, and a dozen other things I had no idea were part of "writing a book" when I started. I gave up on TikTok after months of shouting into an empty room. Now I'm figuring out Instagram and a newsletter between lesson plans, wondering if any of it is landing.
Social media makes the whole process look easy — thousands of subscribers, sold-out editions, overnight success. Meanwhile I'm wondering if my website looks professional and whether the Reel I spent an hour on will get twenty views. It's easy to feel like you're failing when your journey doesn't look like anyone else's — especially when you're building it around an already full life, not a full-time writing schedule and a marketing team.
The doubts get loud too. What if the book just isn't good? What if my beta readers' silence is the feedback nobody wants to say out loud? Writing something this personal and then handing it to someone else to judge is genuinely terrifying.
My manuscript is about to go through a full professional assessment — exciting, nerve-racking, and expensive. I'm hoping it gives me a clear, honest picture of what's working and what isn't, because I'd rather know now than release the book before it's ready. After that: revisions, editing, proofreading, formatting — and then the whole next mountain of ARC readers, street teams, and launch content.
It's a lot to look at all at once. So instead, I remind myself what I've already done: finished a degree while raising seven kids through a pandemic, supported my son through a diagnosis and watched him thrive, started a second career, and wrote an entire book I once thought I never would. None of it was neat. I doubted myself the whole way through every single one. I did them anyway.
Maybe becoming an indie author will be the same — messy, expensive, and full of moments where I have no idea what I'm doing. (Honestly, there's no "maybe" about that part.) But it doesn't have to be polished to be worth doing. I don't need every platform mastered or a newsletter full of subscribers before I get to call myself an author. I just need to keep taking the next step — and right now, that step is sending my manuscript off for assessment and getting ready for whatever feedback comes back.
I don't know yet whether The Flame Beneath will find ten readers or ten thousand. But I do know I wrote it — an idea that lived in my head for years, turned into an actual book. That's worth being proud of, even on the days I feel behind.
If you want to follow along as I figure the rest of it out — the edits, the setbacks, and hopefully the launch — that's exactly what this space is for. Subscribe to the newsletter and I'll take you with me.
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