When I was in college starting to take my writing more seriously, I held Pat Conroy up as the author I wanted to imitate. I thought if I could string together beautiful words and phrases like him, tell stories of such emotional-depth and poignancy, that I’d really be achieving something. So, I gave it a go. Tried to sound like Pat—but only ended up sounding like me. And you know what? Thank goodness for that.

The month of love shines all its light on the romantic, lovey-dovey things, and the Best Book Beaus deserve their moment in the sun. If you’re expecting to read about Mr. Darcy here or anyone from a Sarah J. Maas series, I hate to disappoint you but you won’t find them here. You will, however, find four worth your while!

Here’s the thing about birthdays and anniversaries: with each passing year, you are leveling up. When you age, you’re maturing. For sure in the physical sense; hopefully in the emotional sense, too. Another year in your marriage means another 365 days you spent growing with your spouse. You’re going into your tenth year at the same job, and that often means a raise, a promotion, responsibility over a big project. What does one whole year of running a blog mean?

This may seem random, but today I’ve written about what I remember about lunchtime in elementary school. During my recent read of Bird by Bird (Lamott), I paused after finishing a chapter in which Ms. Lamott instructs her students to do just that and she does, too. It’s meant to be a writing exercise to wake up your imagination and creative energy.

As a writer—and a person—deeply interested in perpetually learning, I’ve picked up my fair share of books on writing to continue my education of the craft. The latest one is Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, and, though the subtitle of the book is Some Instructions on Writing and Life, what she has to say is less about what to do as a writer and more about what it means to be one.

In my last post, I alluded to my writing routine recently going through some changes, and, at the end of last year, I wrote a whole post about why I find routines important, in general. Well, you might be staring down all the time ahead of us in 2026 and thinking you, too, would like to set up structure for your creative projects. Let me give you a few tips on how to do just that!

About a year ago, I read Novelist as a Vocation by Haruki Murakami, who’s had a successful career writing books for the last few decades. He’s an author who pops up on my radar every so often, and I intend to read Norwegian Wood this year (it’s been on my TBR for a while). So, though I have yet to read a work of his fiction, I picked up this essay collection because I find the insights into other writers’ minds incredibly valuable.

A new year typically means a new resolution or new set of goals, both in my personal and creative lives. Up until the last few years, I didn’t really care about setting a resolution. Then, post-undergrad and away from the syllabuses and objectives set for me, I realized I enjoyed coming up with my own structure (my own syllabus, in other words) and identifying what it is I want to work towards over the course of a year.

It’s that time of the year when everyone and their sister is sharing highlights and reflections and memories of a year that’s rapidly wrapping up—and I’m not about to take an original route and do something else with this very last blog post of 2025.

Of the 141 books I’ve read in 2025 (as of this posting), let me tell you about the three that have taken me the most by surprise and why!

When I was fifteen years old, I picked up a book titled Mornings on Horseback because it was physically in my house and Mother Nerd recommended it. It was a work of nonfiction about Theodore Roosevelt and had been written by a historian my mother liked. The subject matter—the 26th president of the United States—was interesting enough, but the author and how he wrote captured my attention more. Thus began my own appreciation for David McCullough and his wordsmithing.

As this final month of 2025 is getting underway and I’m enjoying as much of the holiday season as I can, I’m also looking ahead to the new year. I’ll be doing something new in 2026, and I’m excited about it. Not only does it involve one of my favorite pastimes—reading—I’ll be doing it with Mother Nerd.

As I get settled following our recent, big move, I’m reestablishing my daily routine, and a key part of that is the time I dedicate to writing. Also, with the year winding down, I’m starting to think about what’s been working about my habits that I want to make sure I carry over into 2026. A question that emerges is this: Just how important are my daily word goals? Perhaps more significant is a related question: What’s the value of even having a writing routine?

Last week, I began my reflections on what it was like living abroad in Germany for a year. My three, big takeaways were meant to dig deeper than the surface just as what I’ve got for you today is meant to do the opposite. Quite simply, I want to share a few highlights. Five, specifically—four places and one animal!

After a year of living abroad, our time in Germany has come to a close, and we are back Stateside. Only seemed fitting, I figured, to share a glimpse of what our German year has given me.

There can be a certain perception of how artists, creatives, are. That we’re a touch spacey because we’re lost in our own thoughts with new ideas abounding. That we’re prone to being more go-with-the-flow. That we’ll wax poetic about common things because that’s how we see the world. Whimsical is the word that keeps popping into my head, to describe this perception.

Since we wrapped our Steering the Craft (Le Guin) series, I thought it would be appropriate to share a few of the things I wrote, as prompted by the writing exercises included in each chapter.

Our last lesson revolves around the idea of a story’s focus and trajectory. As authors, we must have a firm grasp on what we’re looking to convey—in other words, what’s the story about—and the arc everything is traveling in.

Here we are with the second-to-last chapter in our Steering the Craft read-through, and it’s got us asking: Am I telling a story, or am I just chaining together plot points—and is it expository or engaging? Le Guin would have us know there’s a big difference between the reading experiences that come from a proper story (vs. only plot), and a lot of it has to do with how you, as a writer, pass along information to your reader.

Welcome to yet another chapter on POV with Le Guin! This time we’re in Chapter 8 and focusing on what it can look like to shift POV in the midst of your writing.