Saying No to Say Yes

This week, I quit something.

Not dramatically, not with fireworks—just a quiet text to a group of people I genuinely like, telling them I needed to step away from a project we’d been working on together. And let me tell you, hitting send on that message made my stomach drop like I’d just jumped off a high dive.

Because here’s the thing: I don’t say no easily.

I’m the person who says “Sure, I can squeeze that in!” while already drowning in deadlines. The one who agrees to help, to collaborate, to show up—even when my gut is whispering, “You don’t have the bandwidth for this.”

But this time? I listened.

The Slow Burn of Maybe

For months, I’d been dragging myself to meetings for this project. At first, it was exciting—new people, fresh ideas, that fizzy creative energy. But over time, something shifted.

I started noticing:

• The way my shoulders tensed up every time my calendar reminder popped up.

• How much time we spent talking about doing things instead of actually doing them.

• The fact that I’d started dreading Tuesdays because it meant another evening spent on something that wasn’t moving the needle for me.

Still, I kept going. Because I’d said I would. Because I didn’t want to let anyone down. Because what if they thought I was flaky?

So I did what I always do when I’m overcommitted: I worked faster, slept less, and quietly resented my own calendar.

Breaking Point

Then, I set a deadline for myself: finish the first draft of my novel by the end of the month. Suddenly, all those “maybe” hours became precious. I did the math—50,000 words in 30 days—and realized: I can’t do both.

That’s when it hit me: Every time I say “yes” to something, I’m saying “no” to something else.

In this case, my “yes” to the group project was a “no” to:

• My novel

• My sanity

• The quality of both projects

So I took a deep breath and sent the text.

What Happened Next Surprised Me

I braced for guilt, for awkwardness, for disappointment.

Instead? Total understanding.

Within an hour, replies came back:

“No worries at all—go crush that book!”

“We’ll miss you, but totally get it!”

All that anxiety, all those imagined scenarios where I was the villain? Pure fiction.

What I’m Learning

1. My gut knew before I did. That “ugh” feeling? It’s not laziness—it’s data.

2. Other creatives get it. We’re all fighting the same battle with time and energy.

3. Saying no isn’t selfish—it’s stewardship. Of my time, my creativity, and the work I care about most.

I’m not suddenly a “no” guru now. I’ll probably still overcommit again. But this time, I’m trying to remember: Every “no” is a “yes” to something else.

Right now, that “yes” is my novel. Next time? Maybe it’ll be sleep. Or pizza. Or just... breathing room.

Ever been stuck in a “yes” you regretted? I’d love to hear how you handled it.

(P.S. Current status: 15,000 words down, 35,000 to go. Send snacks.)

Vulnerability Hangover: Why Sharing Your Art Matters

In her now-famous TED talk, researcher Brené Brown redefined courage, challenging the widespread belief that bravery means suppressing vulnerability. Instead, she argued, true courage is found in allowing ourselves to be seen, despite our fears of judgment. Vulnerability requires dismantling the protective walls we build to shield our hearts, and that can feel deeply uncomfortable.

But in today’s world, being vulnerable feels more essential than ever. It takes courage to share your art, ideas, and voice, especially in an environment saturated with negativity, bigotry, and fear-mongering rhetoric. Yet, sharing something authentic can contribute to a more positive and inclusive discourse—one that fosters understanding, connection, and growth.

Imagine a world without music, literature, or art. Without the creative expression of the human heart and mind, what would we even be creating technology for? Algorithms, AI, and robotics are all tools, but they’re meaningless without the beauty and depth of human creativity to bring them to life. Art and culture are at their best when they reflect our vulnerabilities, building bridges between people and creating shared experiences.

For the past few months, I’ve been challenging myself to show up more openly. As a natural introvert, this hasn’t been easy. Every time I post a blog or a video, that nagging, self-critical voice in my head kicks in: What if this goes badly? I cringe at the thought of being judged, and sometimes the discomfort lingers long after I’ve hit “publish.”

But I’m learning. Slowly, I’m ignoring that voice and taking small, deliberate steps toward sharing more of myself. It’s still a work in progress. I marvel at people who can effortlessly speak into a camera and share their stories online. For me, it’s a process of overcoming mental hurdles one by one. Even so, I’m committed to continuing on this path, curious to see where it leads.

The world is overflowing with dissonance and division right now. My hope is that by sharing my perspective, I can spark a little more kindness and inspire others to share their hearts as well. Vulnerability can feel like a risk, but it’s also an invitation—to connect, to create, and to find the courage to be yourself.

E.E. Cummings said it best:

“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, day and night, to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.”

It’s a battle worth fighting. Vulnerability builds courage, fosters connection, and ultimately leads to a more peaceful and fulfilling life—one lived on your own terms.

So, take the risk. Share your heart. It’s worth it.

Editing: The Hardest Part of Writing - My Seven Steps✨

Editing a novel is hard work. Scratch that—it’s a slog.

As I dive into the editing process for my middle-grade novel, I’m reminded why it’s my least favourite part of writing. Sure, some writers love this phase. For them, editing is where the magic happens, where their stories begin to truly shine. But for me? The joy of writing lies in the wild, uncharted territory of the first draft.

The raw draft is pure adventure. It’s messy, chaotic, and alive with possibility. I get to build worlds, dream up backstories for my villains, and craft plot twists that make my book-loving heart race. But when the fever of drafting fades, and the time comes to hone, prune, and make hard decisions, my creative brain wants to check out completely. Enter: ‘editing brain’.

The Tug-of-War Between Creativity and Logic

Editing brain is the logical, bossy, cut-the-bull part of me. It’s the same part I use to get through my day job, manage my kids’ homework, and file my taxes. But my creative brain resents its intrusion. The two sides of my brain wage war: the artist goes on strike, and the editor stomps off, frustrated that nothing is getting done quickly or perfectly enough.

Every time I start editing, it’s like I’ve forgotten how. So, this time, I’ve mapped out a plan—a step-by-step guide to keep myself on track and maybe help you tackle your own editing woes.

My 7-Step Editing Process

Step 1: Listen to Your Novel

Upload your manuscript to a text-to-speech app. (I use Speechify with the narrator voice of a gruff old Englishman—it’s like listening to someone else’s story!) As you listen, make mental notes or jot down observations in your phone’s notes app. Be sure to highlight both the good stuff (“beautiful description in chapter 1”) and the bad stuff (“middle section drags”).

Step 2: Make a Pros and Cons List

After listening, sit down with your notes. Divide a piece of paper into two columns: a ‘+’ for what’s working and a ‘-‘for what’s not. Be brutally honest. If the middle is boring, the ending makes no sense, or your dialogue needs work, write it down. This honesty will give you a roadmap for what to fix.

Step 3: Create a Plan

Tackle big issues first—plot, character arcs, pacing, and tone. These are your structural problems. Resist the temptation to start over from scratch. Instead, commit to refining what’s already there. Align your edits with what’s working from your ‘+’ list while cutting or streamlining what’s not.

Step 4: Rewrite Your Synopsis

Based on your revised plan, rewrite your synopsis. Cut scenes that don’t advance the plot, clash with the tone, or slow the pacing. World-building details that don’t serve the story? Save them for your world-building bible.

Step 5: Make a Writing Schedule

Create a list of scenes or chapters that need major rewrites. Give yourself a deadline—two to four months is a good target. A longer timeline risks losing momentum or being tempted to start a new project.

Step 6: Rinse and Repeat

Once your rewrites are done, go back to Step 1. Listen to your revised novel, take notes, and repeat the process as needed. Each pass should get easier and faster as you refine your manuscript.

Step 7: Polish, Polish, Polish

When structural edits are complete, shift focus to line edits. Obsess over word choice, prune redundant phrases, and refine dialogue until it flows effortlessly. Use tools like Grammarly for grammar and punctuation, but trust your instincts—overediting can make prose sound stilted. Finally, share your manuscript with a trusted reader for feedback.

Trust the Process—and Yourself

Editing is hard because it requires letting go—of scenes, characters, and ideas that no longer serve the story. It’s about committing to a vision and making the hard choices to align your novel with that vision. But it’s also deeply rewarding. With each revision, your story becomes sharper, clearer, and closer to the masterpiece it’s meant to be.

Ultimately, you’re writing for the reader in you. If you’re proud of your novel and it brings you joy, chances are it will resonate with readers who share your tastes. Keep going, one step at a time, and trust the process. You’ve got this!

I made a little video summing all this up to motivate myself to get through the edits, hope it can inspire you too!

Productivity, Process, and Progress

Overcoming the Creative Roadblocks

In recent years, the non-fiction aisle has been flooded with books promising to unlock greater productivity, efficiency, and mastery over your time. The message is clear: we’re obsessed with doing more, better, and in less time. Yet, modern work often feels like an endless juggling act. Remote meetings blend into Slack conversations, toggling between twenty open browser tabs, replying to emails while searching for attachments that seem to have vanished into the ether. Amidst all this chaos, we schedule carpools, pay bills, and handle life’s demands.

We know context switching is a productivity killer, yet most of us do it all day, every day. Is there a better way? Can we allow ourselves to focus on just one task at a time?

The Mental Overload of Modern Life

Did you know we have up to 60,000 thoughts per day? Astonishingly, 95% of them are repeats from the day before, and up to 80% can be negative. The mental chatter is relentless:

• “I don’t want to sit through this boring meeting.”

• “Why can’t I remember my password?”

• “What’s wrong with me? I’ll never finish this project.”

It’s no surprise we feel drained. Research suggests that multitasking can double the time it takes to finish a task and increase error rates by up to 50%. Yet we still do it. Why? Often, it’s a form of procrastination.

The Procrastination Trap

When faced with a big, daunting task, we tend to start with smaller, less important ones. The logic? Crossing a few things off our to-do list will give us the momentum to tackle the big one. But those smaller tasks often snowball, leaving the real priorities untouched.

Strangely, the tasks we procrastinate on are often the ones we care about the most. They’re the big-ticket items:

• “Finish novel.”

• “Record podcast.”

• “Launch business idea.”

Why do these tasks linger on our to-do lists, haunting us year after year? The fear of failure, inadequacy, or unmet expectations often paralyzes us. We avoid starting because starting means committing.

Decision Paralysis: The Creative Killer

At the heart of procrastination lies decision paralysis—the overwhelming anxiety of choosing a path when the outcome is uncertain. Creative work, in particular, requires countless micro-decisions, each one stacking atop the last. It’s exhausting, especially when you don’t have all the information or can’t see the full picture.

In the past week alone, I’ve felt this paralysis:

• Trying to design the weapons and landscape for a futuristic battle scene.

• Deciding on a side character’s name and backstory.

• Figuring out how to cancel a mysterious streaming subscription no one in my family seems to use.

• Connecting a Roland synthesizer to my computer.

Each of these required more steps than anticipated. What I thought would take two steps ballooned into five—or seven. Frustration mounted, inertia set in, and progress ground to a halt.

Overcoming the Roadblocks

The solution is both simple and maddeningly slow: focus on one task at a time.

• Commit fully to solving one problem.

• Resist the urge to think about what else you “should” be doing.

• Accept that progress will take time and energy.

It’s not glamorous, but it works. The real win is learning to celebrate the small victories along the way. Solving a major roadblock—whether it’s figuring out a plot point, finishing a sketch, or debugging code—is just as important as crossing the finish line.

Step-by-Step, Detail by Detail

Creative work isn’t about monumental leaps forward; it’s about methodically tackling each step, each detail. The key is to fight the temptation to judge yourself for “not making progress” and instead focus on what’s in front of you.

This is advice I need as much as anyone else. Finishing creative projects always takes more time, energy, and mental effort than expected. But every step forward—no matter how small—is still progress.

So, to anyone feeling stuck on a creative project this week: hang in there. Celebrate your wins, however minor they seem, and trust that every detail you solve brings you closer to the finish line.

You’ve got this.

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