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Category: Narrative Nook Monday

Write in Vignettes, Not Chapters
Memoirs don’t have to be written in order. Think of your story as a mosaic, each small piece matters, and together, they create the full picture. Writing in vignettes, short, focused scenes or reflections can help make the process feel less overwhelming. A memoir is not just about what happened; its about how it changed you.

The Magic of Runes in Modern Storytelling

The Magic of Runes in Modern Storytelling

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 01/19/2026

As an author weaving tales of survival and mysticism, I’ve fallen in love with runes, those enigmatic symbols from our ancestors. Today, let’s explore how these ancient marks breathe new life into modern stories, drawing from their historical roots to inspire today’s readers and writers.

Imagine a world shattered by catastrophe, where survivors cling to fragments of ancient wisdom to forge their path forward. In my Zion series, a mysterious rune etched on a weathered stone whispers prophecies of hope amid the ruins. It’s not just a plot device—it’s a bridge to the past, pulsing with magic that feels alive on the page.

Runes aren’t mere letters; they’re portals to a bygone era. The Elder Futhark, the oldest known runic alphabet, emerged around 150-800 AD among Germanic tribes in Scandinavia and beyond.

Carved into wood, stone, or bone, these 24 symbols served practical purposes—like labeling possessions or commemorating the dead—but they also carried deeper, mystical connotations.

Derived from the word “rún” meaning “secret” or “mystery” in Old Norse, runes were believed to hold divinatory power. Warriors might consult them before battle, or shamans use them in rituals to glimpse the future.

Historians draw much of what we know from sources like the Anglo-Saxon Rune Poem and the Norwegian Rune Poem, which assign poetic meanings to each symbol.

Take Fehu, the first rune, shaped like a cattle horn: It represents wealth, prosperity, and the rewards of hard work.

Uruz, resembling an aurochs (a wild ox), embodies raw strength and endurance—perfect for tales of overcoming adversity.

Then there’s Ansuz, linked to Odin, the Allfather, symbolizing wisdom, communication, and divine inspiration.

These aren’t static definitions; they’re fluid, open to interpretation, which is why they fascinate storytellers like me.

In my Zion series—starting with Zion: The Beginning and continuing through the chronicles—I’ve adapted these runes to fit a post-apocalyptic landscape. Here, they’re more than historical nods; they’re survival tools.

Characters decipher rune-inscribed artifacts to unlock hidden bunkers or predict environmental threats, blending ancient lore with futuristic grit.

For instance, a protagonist might trace Uruz during a brutal storm, drawing on its energy to push through exhaustion.

This isn’t arbitrary—I researched authentic meanings to ensure they resonate authentically, then twisted them to serve the narrative. It’s like Tolkien did with his Elvish scripts or runes in The Hobbit, where they add layers of world-building that make Middle-earth feel timeless.

What draws me to runes in storytelling is their versatility. They’re visual poetry: Simple lines that evoke complex ideas, making them ideal for visual media like book covers or fan art.

In Zion, they symbolize resilience in chaos, mirroring real-world themes of adaptation in uncertain times. And honestly, incorporating them sparks my creativity—it’s like unlocking a secret code in my own writing process.

Speaking of process, let’s get practical. If you’re an aspiring writer eyeing mystical elements, runes are a goldmine. I start with research:

Books like The Rune Primer by Sweyn Plowright or online archives from museums provide solid foundations without overwhelming you. Then, I sketch them out—drawing Fehu or Ansuz helps internalize their shapes and energies.

One tip I had fun with: Try “rune journaling.” Each morning, pull a rune (you can use apps or make your own deck) and let it inspire a scene. Stuck on a character’s motivation? Draw Ansuz for a wisdom breakthrough. It’s a low-pressure way to infuse some Nordic or Celtic magic into your drafts.

In Zion, this method led to some of my favorite twists—like a rune that shifts meaning based on context, forcing heroes to question fate. It’s empowering: Runes remind us that stories, like real life, are woven from choices and interpretations. If you’re curious, grab a notebook and experiment— who knows what secrets you’ll uncover?

As we step into 2026, runes feel more relevant than ever. In a world buzzing with AI and rapid change, they ground us in human heritage while fueling imagination. Whether you’re devouring fantasy epics or crafting your own, these symbols endure because they tap into universal truths: Strength in struggle, wisdom in whispers.

From Book 1: Zion: The Beginning Of the 6-part Series “America’s Great Perfect Storm”

If runes have sparked your interest, let me know and when it’s ready, I will let you know.. You’ll dive into the Zion series on Amazon—start with Zion: The Beginning and see how these ancient marks shape a new world.

Share your thoughts in the comments: Have you used runes in your stories, or do they appear in your favorite books?

I’d love to hear! And stay tuned for more chronicles woven in runes—next up, perhaps a rune-deep dive on my upcoming podcast.

Thanks for reading, fellow adventurers. Until next time, may your paths be marked with prosperous runes.

Narrative Nook Monday: God’s Design in Nature: Unveiling the Golden Ratio

Narrative Nook Monday: God’s Design in Nature: Unveiling the Golden Ratio

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 10/20/2025

The golden ratio is a testimony to God’s perfect design.

Have you ever marveled at the effortless elegance of a nautilus shell spiraling into the sea, or the way sunflower seeds pack themselves into a perfect, hypnotic pattern? These aren’t random accidents of evolution—they’re whispers of divine precision, etched into the fabric of creation. At the heart of it all lies the golden ratio, a mathematical marvel that serves as profound testimony to God’s perfect design. It’s not just numbers on a page; it’s the signature of the Creator, woven through the beauty of the natural world.

Nature by Numbers:

What Exactly Is the Golden Ratio?

Picture this: a harmonious dance between two proportions, where the whole relates to the larger part exactly as that larger part relates to the smaller one. Numerically, this “divine proportion” clocks in at approximately 1:1.618 (often denoted by the Greek letter φ, or phi). It’s the secret behind that feeling of “just right” we get from art, architecture, and yes, the wonders of nature.

One of the most intuitive ways to visualize it is through a series of expanding squares. Start simple: Draw two squares, each with sides measuring 1 unit. Now, add a third square whose side equals the sum of the previous two—2 units. Keep going: the next square’s side is 3 units (2 + 1), then 5 units (3 + 2), 8 units (5 + 3), and so on. As you arrange these squares into a quarter-turn spiral, something magical emerges—a graceful, self-similar curve that echoes infinitely, pulling your eye outward in perfect balance.

Here’s something fun:

The Fibonacci Connection: Nature’s Building Blocks

This square-building exercise isn’t arbitrary; it’s deeply intertwined with the Fibonacci sequence, one of math’s most elegant patterns. Named after the 13th-century Italian mathematician Leonardo Fibonacci, the sequence begins with 0 and 1 (or simply 1 and 1, depending on your starting point), and each subsequent number is the sum of the two before it: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34…

As the numbers grow, their ratios approach the golden ratio—divide 21 by 13, and you’re at about 1.615; 34 by 21 gets even closer to 1.618. In that spiral of squares, the curve traces the Fibonacci path, creating a vortex that feels alive, almost breathing. It’s no wonder this pattern repeats across God’s canvas: from the tight coils of a fern frond to the branching of tree limbs, the arrangement of pinecones, and even the spirals in galaxies far beyond our reach.

Echoes in the Everyday: Where You’ll Spot It

Step outside, and the golden ratio is everywhere, a quiet hymn to intentionality. Gaze at a pinecone, and you’ll see those Fibonacci scales fanning out in golden spirals. Slice open a pineapple or examine a honeycomb, and the hexagons align with near-perfect phi proportions. In the human body—fearfully and wonderfully made, as Psalm 139 reminds us—the ratio appears in the proportions of our fingers, the curve of our DNA helix, and even the layout of our faces.

Artists and architects have chased this harmony for millennia: think of the Parthenon’s facade or Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. But it’s in nature where the awe deepens—proof that the same hand that flung stars into space crafted the delicate spiral of a seashell to shelter life.

The Golden Ratio: is it myth or math?

 

A Divine Invitation to Wonder

In a world that often reduces beauty to chance, the golden ratio stands as a beacon:This was designed with love. It’s God’s way of saying, “Look closer—I’m in the details.” As Romans 1:20 declares, His invisible qualities are clearly seen in what has been made. Next time you trace the curve of a leaf or the arc of a wave, pause and give thanks. What golden threads of design have you noticed in your own corner of creation? Share in the comments—I’d love to hear!

For more on faith, science, and the wonders of the world, subscribe below. And if you’re craving visuals, search up “Fibonacci spiral in nature” for some breathtaking images to fuel your reflection.

~ S. M. Ulbrich

(Inspired by the elegance of creation and the timeless wisdom of Scripture.)

 

P.S. I am not a mathematician. In fact, I started failing math in second grade! But I’m married to a guy who has loved the language of maths his whole life. He occasionally shares his knowledge with high school students, and others. He even tutored for a time and regularly had experienced praise and appreciation for his skills. For example, an attorney whose son was having difficulty with math, later thanked him and told him that because of what he’d learned in watching the lessons, he’s decided to quit the law business and teach high schoolers!

 

NNM#4: The Reluctant Hero’s Coffee Break

NNM#4: The Reluctant Hero’s Coffee Break

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 10/13/2025

Narrative Nook Monday #4 Muse: The Reluctant Hero’s Coffee Break

Mondays. That word alone can summon the groan of a thousand alarm clocks. But what if we recast them not as the dragon hoarding our weekend gold, but as the quirky sidekick who spills plot twists over lukewarm brew? Enter the Reluctant Hero’s Coffee Break: a 5-minute rebellion disguised as your morning ritual.

Picture this: You’re slumped at the kitchen counter, steam curling from your mug like a genie’s half-hearted wish. Instead of doom-scrolling the news, grab a napkin (or your phone’s notes app) and fire off three “what ifs” about the ordinary chaos around you. Your commute? “What if the barista’s tattoo is a map to a hidden speakeasy?” The flickering office light? “What if it’s Morse code from a parallel-universe you, begging for a plot twist?”

Last Monday, mine hit paydirt. Imagining myself stuck in traffic, I eyed the guy in the Prius ahead, air-drumming to some invisible beat. What if?

What if he’s not late for a meeting—he’s racing to audition as the world’s most unlikely rock god, and his drum solo is the key to saving the multiverse?

Boom. In 100 words, I had this:

Tires hummed like a bassline gone rogue. Eddie gripped the wheel, sweat beading under his tie. Not another TPS report deadline—no, this was it. The scout from Interdimensional Records had DM’d at 2 a.m.: “One shot. Shred or shred your soul.” As the light flipped green, he launched into “Stairway to Eleven,” fingers blurring on an imaginary kit. Horns blared in harmony. By the studio door, the scout nodded. “Kid, you’ve got rhythm and regret.” Eddie exhaled. Mondays weren’t the enemy—they were the encore.

See? From gridlock to glory in a sip. Mondays aren’t villains; they’re unreliable narrators, feeding us half-truths about burnout and boredom.

Rewrite yours: Turn the traffic jam into a heist, the inbox into a cipher. What’s one “what if” bubbling in your brew today? Drop it below—let’s crowdsource a manifesto.

Your move, reluctant hero. What’s brewing?

There—short, punchy, and primed for comments. If you want to amp up the prompts, swap in a reader poll, or tweak the snippet, hit me. What’s your go-to coffee-break fueled “what if” ritual?

Narrative Nook Monday #3: Echoes of the Forgotten Shore

Narrative Nook Monday #3: Echoes of the Forgotten Shore

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 10/06/2025

Narrative Nook Monday: Echoes of the Forgotten Shore

Welcome back to Narrative Nook Monday, dear readers—a cozy corner of Family Circle 14 and S.M.Ulbrich Blog where stories unfold like whispers from the bayou, blending our Acadian and Cajun roots with threads of wonder and heart. Today, let’s dive into a tale inspired by the resilient spirits of the Gulf Coast, where the sea holds secrets and second chances. I call this one “The Lantern’s Promise”, a short story of loss, light, and the unbreakable pull of home. Pull up a chair, brew some chicory coffee, and let the words carry you away.

In the salt-kissed hamlet of Petit Rivière, where the Mississippi’s lazy fingers tangled with the Gulf’s restless waves, lived an old fisherman named Étienne. His days blurred into a rhythm of nets and knots, his nights into the hush of a widow’s solitude. Twenty years had passed since the great storm of ‘05 stole his Marie—not her body, mind you, but her spark—leaving him adrift in a world that felt as empty as the bay after a nor’easter.

Étienne’s boat, L’Étoile Filante (Shooting Star, though it hadn’t shot anywhere in a decade), bobbed forgotten at the rickety dock. He mended nets by lantern light now, not for the sea, but for the ghosts that gathered in the gloaming. Folks in town said he talked to shadows, but Étienne knew better: they were echoes. Marie’s laugh in the wind, her callused hands braiding his hair with tales of her Acadian grandmère, who fled the British expulsion in 1755, carrying only a locket and a song.

One fog-shrouded dawn, as the herons cried their mournful reveille, a stranger washed up on the shore. Not a man, exactly, but a silhouette stitched from mist and memory—a figure cloaked in seaweed, eyes like polished abalone shells. “Étienne LeBlanc,” it rasped, voice like gravel under keel, “you’ve kept my light too long.”

He froze, net half-mended in his lap. The lantern at his feet flickered, its flame dancing defiant against the damp. “Who are you to claim what’s mine?” he growled, though his heart hammered like a gator’s tail on tin.

The figure knelt, close enough for him to smell the brine and something sweeter—jasmine from Marie’s garden. “I am the Keeper of Lost Promises. Your Marie made one the night the storm came: to light your way home, no matter how far the tide pulls.” It extended a hand, palm up, revealing a tiny glass orb etched with Acadian fleur-de-lis. Inside swirled a miniature tempest, frozen mid-roar.

Étienne’s breath caught. That night replayed in his mind’s eye: Marie pressing the orb into his fist as winds howled, her lips fierce against his. “Keep this, mon cœur. It’ll guide you when I’m gone. Promise me you’ll live, not just survive.” He’d nodded, numb, and tucked it away. But grief is a sly thief; it had hoarded the promise like a miser with coins.

“Why now?” he whispered, the words cracking like driftwood.

The Keeper’s eyes softened, reflecting the lantern’s glow. “Because the shore forgets no one, but it tires of waiting. Sail out at dusk, Étienne. Follow the light to where her echo lingers.”

Dusk painted the sky in bruised purples and golds. Against the mutters of neighbors (“Old Étienne’s finally lost it”), he shoved off in L’Étoile Filante, the boat groaning like an old friend roused from slumber. The orb nestled in the lantern, its inner storm now a steady pulse of blue fire. He steered into the gathering dark, the Gulf a vast inkwell swallowing stars.

Hours bled into the velvet night. Waves slapped the hull like impatient lovers, and doubt gnawed at him—had grief conjured this madness? Then, a glimmer: not from the orb, but ahead, where sea met sky in a hazy seam. A chorus of lights bobbed there, faint as fireflies, weaving patterns that tugged at his soul. He leaned into the tiller, heart thundering.

As L’Étoile cut through the swell, the lights resolved into lanterns—dozens, hundreds—drifting on a hidden atoll, a crescent of sand veiled by perpetual mist. Figures moved among them, translucent as moonlit lace: souls unmoored by storms past, Acadian exiles and Cajun kin, waiting for their lights to be claimed. And at the heart, Marie—her hair wild as the waves that took her, her smile a beacon.

“Étienne,” she called, voice clear as a fiddle’s reel. She stepped forward, solidifying in the lantern’s warmth, her hand cool but real against his weathered cheek. “You kept your promise. Now let me keep mine.”

They talked till the stars wheeled overhead— of lost years, of the boys they’d never had, of the songs her grandmère sang to summon courage. The other lanterns brightened with each word, promises reignited, pulling their keepers home across the water. Dawn crept in, gilding the mist, and Marie pressed the orb back into his palm. “This isn’t goodbye, mon amour. It’s the light we carry together. Go build that garden again. Plant jasmine for me.”

He sailed back as the sun crested, the Gulf now a mirror of gold. L’Étoile Filante kissed the dock with a sigh of relief. The town stirred, eyes wide at the old man grinning like a fool, his nets abandoned for a shovel and seeds. That night, as jasmine bloomed improbably under his window, Étienne lit his lantern—not for ghosts, but for the living promise within.

And on fogged dawns thereafter, when strangers washed ashore, he’d share the tale: “The sea don’t steal; it lends. Just follow the light.”

What do you think, friends? Does The Lantern’s Promise stir echoes in your own heart—memories of loved ones, or the quiet strength of heritage that lights our way? Share in the comments below, or drop a line on Goodreads or Amazon. If this nook warmed you, curl up with one of my Zion Chronicles for more tales of trials turned triumphs, or revisit Discovering Misty for seaside magic that lingers. Until next Monday, may your own lanterns burn bright. Au revoir!

*~ S. M. Ulbrich*

(Word count: ~750. Inspired by Gulf Coast folklore and the enduring love in stories like Love You Forever.)

Narrative Nook Monday #2: Mastering Storytelling Techniques

Narrative Nook Monday #2: Mastering Storytelling Techniques

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 09/29/2025

Mastering Storytelling Techniques: Tips from a Children’s Author

Hello, fellow storytellers and book lovers! Welcome back to Narrative Nook, where we dive into the art of crafting tales that captivate hearts and minds. As a children’s author with the Discovering Misty series under my belt (available on Amazon) and my upcoming picture book George and the Brave Eagle (set to release soon—stay tuned!), I’ve spent years honing my storytelling craft. Today, I’m excited to share some practical tips on key storytelling methods: character development, plot structure, and theme exploration. I’ll break them down with examples from my own work and timeless classics, so you can apply these techniques to your writing. Whether you’re penning your first story or refining your next manuscript, these insights can elevate your narratives.

Character Development: Breathing Life into Your Heroes and Villains

Character development is the heartbeat of any story—it’s what makes readers care, laugh, cry, or cheer. The key is to create multi-dimensional characters who evolve over time, revealing layers through actions, dialogue, and backstory. Start by giving your characters clear motivations, flaws, and arcs. Avoid flat archetypes; instead, show growth through challenges.

Tip 1: Use “Show, Don’t Tell” for Depth

Rather than stating “Misty is curious,” demonstrate it through her actions. This builds empathy and immersion.

From my Discovering Misty series, Misty, a young explorer, starts as a timid girl afraid of the unknown. In the first book, she hesitates to enter a mysterious forest, but by facing small obstacles—like solving a riddle from a talking animal— she gains confidence. This arc mirrors Harry Potter’s journey in J.K. Rowling’s series, where Harry’s initial insecurity as an orphan evolves into brave leadership through trials at Hogwarts. To make this stick in your writing, jot down a “character bible” with traits, backstories, and pivotal moments before drafting.

Tip 2: Incorporate Internal Conflict

Give characters inner struggles that clash with external events. This adds realism and tension.

In George and the Brave Eagle, George is a boy who dreams of adventure but fears heights. His internal battle—wanting to soar with the eagle but doubting himself—drives the story. Think of Elizabeth Bennet in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, whose prejudice against Mr. Darcy creates delicious internal (and external) conflict, leading to profound growth. Pro tip: Use journal entries or monologues in your drafts to explore a character’s thoughts, then weave them subtly into the narrative.

Plot Structure: Building a Solid Framework for Your Tale

A strong plot structure keeps readers hooked from start to finish. I like to think of it as a rollercoaster: setup the climb, deliver thrilling drops, and end with a satisfying resolution. Classic structures like Freytag’s Pyramid (exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, denouement) provide a reliable blueprint, but feel free to twist it for surprise.

Tip 1: Balance Pacing with Stakes

Ramp up tension gradually, raising the stakes to maintain momentum. Too slow, and readers disengage; too fast, and it feels rushed.

In the Discovering Misty books, the plot builds from Misty’s everyday life (exposition) to discovering a hidden world (rising action), culminating in a showdown with a mythical guardian (climax). This echoes the structure in C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, where the Pevensie children’s ordinary world gives way to Narnia’s escalating battles, peaking at the Stone Table confrontation. To apply this, outline your plot points on index cards and rearrange them to ensure escalating conflict—aim for each scene to advance the story or reveal character.

Tip 2: Incorporate Twists and Subplots

Weave in subplots that support the main arc, and add unexpected twists to keep things fresh.

For George and the Brave Eagle, a subplot involves George’s friendship with a wise old birdwatcher, which provides clues for the main quest and leads to a twist about the eagle’s true identity. A famous example is the revelation in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre about Mr. Rochester’s secret wife—a twist that reshapes the plot while deepening themes of love and morality. Tip: Plant subtle foreshadowing early to make twists feel earned, not contrived. Read your draft aloud to spot pacing issues.

Theme Exploration: Weaving Deeper Meaning into Your Narrative

Themes are the soul of your story—the underlying messages that linger with readers. Explore them through symbols, motifs, and character choices, but avoid preaching; let themes emerge organically.

Tip 1: Choose Universal Themes with Personal Twists

Pick relatable ideas like courage, friendship, or self-discovery, then infuse them with your unique voice.

My Discovering Misty series explores themes of curiosity and environmental stewardship—Misty’s adventures highlight how exploring nature fosters respect for it. Similarly, in George and the Brave Eagle, the theme of overcoming fear is central, symbolized by the eagle’s flight. Draw from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince, where themes of love and loss are explored through whimsical encounters, leaving readers pondering human connections. To develop this, brainstorm themes during outlining, then track how they appear in key scenes.

Tip 2: Use Symbolism and Repetition

Repeat motifs to reinforce themes without overt explanation.

In George and the Brave Eagle, feathers symbolize growth, appearing first as a found token and later as a badge of bravery. This technique shines in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, where the green light represents unattainable dreams, recurring to underscore themes of aspiration and disillusionment. Pro tip: After drafting, highlight thematic elements in different colors to ensure balance—too subtle, and they fade; too heavy, and they overwhelm.

Storytelling is both an art and a craft, and these techniques have been game-changers for me as I bring stories like Discovering Misty and George and the Brave Eagle to life. Experiment with them in your own work, and remember: the best stories come from passion and persistence. What’s your favorite storytelling technique? Drop a comment below—I’d love to hear from you and maybe feature your tips in a future post!

If you’re inspired, check out the Discovering Misty series on Amazon for more adventure-filled tales, and keep an eye out for George and the Brave Eagle. Happy writing!

Narrative Nook – Where Stories Come Alive

Shirley

Narrative Nook Monday #1: A Tapestry of Stories

Narrative Nook Monday #1: A Tapestry of Stories

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 09/22/2025

A Tapestry of Stories: My Journey as a Writer

Every writer has a moment when the world tilts, and the stories inside them demand to be told. For me, that moment came on a quiet evening, surrounded by the soft hum of Louisiana’s bayou country, where the air carries whispers of Acadian ancestors and the past feels alive. As S.M. Ulbrich, I’ve always been drawn to history—not just the dates and events, but the heartbeat of people who lived it, their struggles woven with threads of magic and mystery. This is the story of how I became a writer, a path carved by heritage, imagination, and a stubborn love for storytelling.

Growing up, I was captivated by tales of my Acadian roots, stories of resilience like those of Joseph Broussard, my direct ancestor on my paternal grandmother’s side, whose courage against all odds felt like a call to action. I’d pore over genealogy records, like the Drouin Collection, tracing names and imagining the lives behind them. Those names weren’t just ink on a page—they were people who faced exile, built new homes, and carried their culture across oceans. Their strength inspired me, and I wanted to honor them in my writing. But it wasn’t enough to retell history; I wanted to infuse it with the mystical, to let runes glow on the page and hint at deeper truths.

My first leap into authorship came with Discovering Misty: The Mermaid of the Emerald Coast, a children’s series born from a real-life character actor in Florida who enchanted kids with her tales. Writing for young readers felt like sharing a secret: that stories can spark joy, teach empathy, and build bridges between generations. I’d sit at my desk, petting my cat for calm, music humming in the background, and let Misty’s world unfold. Those books, now on Amazon, are my love letter to the kids who dream big and the families who read together. But they’re also a piece of me—a reminder of the girl who saw magic in the everyday.

Writing isn’t always smooth. There were manuscripts like George and the Brave Eagle and Washington’s Fantastical Crossing, still waiting for illustrations and funding, that tested my patience. There were moments of doubt, like when I rushed to meet deadlines before my husband returned home, or very late at night, as I was doing nurse duty for my foster kids, scribbling words for The Fading Light in a race against time. Yet, every struggle taught me something. The chaos of Hurricane Sandy’s aftermath in my Zion Series reminded me that stories, like life, thrive in the tension between hope and hardship.

What keeps me going is the connection—to my heritage, to readers, to the spark of a new idea. When I got an email from a reader community eager to discuss Misty on Goodreads, I felt the weight of my words landing in someone else’s heart. When I designed a vibrant Canva image for my Amazon author page or crafted a post for my blog, Family Circle 14, or this one, I saw my voice reaching further. Even now, as I weave runes into my historical fiction or dream up blog posts about creativity, I’m reminded that writing is my way of making sense of the world.

This memoir isn’t just about me—it’s about the stories we all carry. Whether it’s a tale of Acadian resilience, a mermaid’s adventure, or a rune glowing in the dark, I write to uncover the magic in the past and share it with you. So, here I am, still typing, still dreaming, still weaving my tapestry of stories.

What’s the story you’re carrying today?

Shirley

P.S. I’m excited to share that today I found 3 more manuscripts I’d written years ago, that I thought I’d never see again — 2 are part of the Misty series!