Between Prairie Wind and Crimson Shadows

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how much of the writing life happens away from the page.

It happens while coffee is cooling beside the keyboard.
It happens between work shifts, errands, appointments, family time, dog snuggles, and all the small responsibilities that make up an ordinary day.
It happens when I’m too tired to edit but still thinking about a line that needs to be stronger.
It happens when I’m standing at an author table, learning how to talk about my own work without shrinking from it.

From the outside, being an author can look like book covers, social media posts, newsletters, events, and polished updates.

But behind all of that is a real person building a life around the work.

And honestly? That has been the theme of my May.

Not perfection.
Not a dramatic transformation.
Not some magical version of myself who has everything figured out.

Just me, learning how to keep showing up.

The Real Life Part

May has reminded me that creative work does not happen in a vacuum.

I still have a job.
I still have a home.
I still have people and pets who need my attention.
I still have days when my energy is lower than my ambition.
I still have moments where I look at everything I want to do and wonder how one person is supposed to hold it all.

And then I remember: I do not have to hold it all at once.

I can edit one poem.
Revise one scene.
Plan one post.
Answer one message.
Take one walk.
Make one small decision that moves me forward.

That is the part people do not always see.

A creative life is not only made in the big announcements. It is made in the small, repeated choices to keep going.

After the Book Launch

Publishing The Taste of Crimson: Angyel was a huge milestone for me.

There is something powerful about seeing a story move from private draft to finished book. For so long, Angyel lived in my imagination, in messy notes, in rewritten scenes, in late-night doubts, and in all the “is this working?” moments that come with writing something deeply personal.

Now she is out in the world.

That is beautiful.

It is also strange.

Because after a book is published, life does not suddenly stop and hand you a long stretch of perfect creative peace. The next project is already waiting. The next idea is already tugging at your sleeve. The next round of edits is already asking for your attention.

So this season has become less about launching one book and more about learning how to live as an author with multiple creative pieces in motion.

What I’m Working On Now

Right now, my attention is split between two very different creative worlds.

I’m editing Raised by Wind, my Wyoming-rooted poetry collection.

This book has a completely different heartbeat from The Taste of Crimson. It is shaped by prairie wind, childhood memory, open land, hard seasons, and the kind of beauty that does not ask permission before it changes you.

Editing poetry asks me to slow down.

Every word matters.
Every line break matters.
Every rhyme, rhythm, and image has to earn its place.

Some days, editing Raised by Wind feels like brushing dust off something I’ve carried for years. Other days, it feels like standing in a field with the wind in my face, trying to hear what the poem is really asking to become.

At the same time, I’m working on The Taste of Crimson: Marcie.

Marcie’s story has its own pulse. Her voice is different from Angyel’s. Her emotional landscape is different. Her way of moving through desire, connection, and identity brings a new layer to the Crimson world.

Writing her means stepping back into that rich, intimate, complicated space—but from a new angle.

And I love that.

I love that one project pulls me toward Wyoming skies and prairie memory, while the other pulls me back into the velvet shadows of Crimson.

Somewhere between the two, I am learning what kind of author I am becoming.

Behind the Pages

I’m still learning how to live as an author, not just write as one.

There is a difference.

Writing can happen privately. Quietly. In notebooks. In drafts. In the middle of the night when no one knows what you are creating.

Being an author asks something different.

It asks me to share.
To promote.
To talk about the work.
To let people see what I’ve made.
To stand behind my stories and say, “Yes, this came from me.”

That part still stretches me.

But I’m getting better at it.

Every event, every post, every newsletter, every conversation with someone who asks what I write helps me become a little more comfortable in this new skin.

And maybe that is what May is teaching me most:

I do not have to feel completely ready to keep becoming.

A Thought for May

This month, I hope you give yourself permission to honor the life behind whatever you are building.

The unseen effort counts.

The small steps count.

The days when you only do a little still count.

The courage it takes to begin again, especially when no one is watching, absolutely counts.

You do not have to be polished to be making progress.

You do not have to be fearless to be brave.

And you do not have to have everything figured out before you claim the life you are building.

Sometimes the life behind the books, behind the work, behind the dream, is where the real story is happening.

With coffee, courage, and honest words,
Amy

Want to support my author journey?
You can check out The Taste of Crimson: Angyel, follow along on social media, or share this newsletter with someone who is building something brave in their own life.