How It Looks and Feels When I’m Writing

How It Looks and Feels When I’m Writing

Every author has a unique process — and the truth is, that process can change over time. Mine certainly has.

When I begin a new story, I’m usually full of excitement. There’s a spark there — an idea, a pairing, a moment I can already feel intensely. I know the main tropes. I understand the emotional conflict and where the story ultimately needs to land.

And then … inevitably … I hit a point where something doesn’t feel quite right.

For some, this moment is called writer’s block. People describe it as standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to turn back or leap into unknown waters below.

For me, it’s never been a lack of ideas or words. It’s something subtler — a quiet resistance. A sense that the story isn’t hitting correctly yet. That something emotional or structural is misaligned, even if I can’t immediately articulate why.

Before I started outlining, this feeling could completely stall a project. Now, it still happens — but with far less intensity and panic.

Where Every Story Begins

I should mention that I’m a very visual thinker. I often look to imagery for inspiration — places, moods, textures, even a single expression that sparks a scene. Many of these visuals live on public and private Pinterest boards where I collect ideas while a story is forming. Sometimes an image unlocks a moment I didn’t even realize was waiting to be written.

Once I have the initial vision of the story, I move into building it intentionally.

I create detailed character sheets for my main characters. I want to understand who they are, what they want, and what they’re afraid of before I ever drop them into a scene.

If the story takes place in one of my established worlds — like Cady Springs, Colorado or Kilbrae, Scotland — the setting comes easily. I can see the streets, the buildings, the routines. The characters already belong there.

If it’s a newer world, or one inspired by a real location (like my Bourbon & Roses series), I need more mental bandwidth. I spend time imagining how the characters move through unfamiliar environments before I ever ask them to fall in love inside them.

Outlining (With Room to Breathe)

Once I know the characters and the world, I outline. I aim for detail, but not rigidity.

The outline is there to support the writing, not trap it. I allow it to breathe. Scenes can shift. Emotional beats can deepen. Word processors make this a whole lot easier. I’m endlessly grateful I’m not working on a typewriter like authors decades ago.

Sometimes I’ll use dictation to capture a scene or chapter I don’t want to lose — especially if it arrives fully formed in my head. Those moments feel urgent, like the story is tapping me on the shoulder saying write this now.

Living Inside the Story

When I’m working on a project, it’s the only story I’m writing. I know many authors can juggle multiple books at once. I can’t. I like staying immersed. Truly immersed.

When I say I’m living with the characters in my head, I mean it literally. They’re having conversations. They’re replaying scenes. They’re working things out long before I ever sit down at my desk.

Outlining helps here too. I never come to the page wondering what I should write next. I already know. That doesn’t mean surprises don’t happen — they absolutely do — but I’m never lost.

Returning to the Page

Before I start a new writing session, I usually read what I worked on the time before. It helps me re-enter the story. It brings the emotional tone back into focus. And it allows for light, instinctive editing along the way — the kind that happens naturally when you’re still close to the material.

Writing, for me, isn’t just about putting words on the page.

It’s about listening, feeling, and adjusting. I've found that I need to trust when something feels stuck. Because it’s often the story asking for a little more care — not less.

Thank you for your time, your curiosity, and for allowing me to share a glimpse of how my stories take shape.