I’ll be the first to admit it: I’m terrible at routines and schedules. Consistency has never been my strong suit. I wasn’t great at keeping a journal when I was younger, and apparently, that hasn’t changed much.
I have written a few Amazon reviews recently, but I didn’t get around to posting them here. Mostly because I’ve just been… working. And working. And working some more. It’s constant. Retail during the holidays is always a joy (yes, that was sarcasm). Even without dealing directly with customers, the longer hours, added stress, and general entitlement in the air are exhausting.
My weekday job is fine. There are plenty of changes happening, but overall, it feels manageable. Still, I’m tired. Bone-deep, soul-tired. Adulting is overrated.
For context (if I haven’t mentioned this before), my mom lives with me. I used to be able to cover all of our expenses on my own, but after losing my job, my savings disappeared right along with it. Now I’m living paycheck to paycheck, working two jobs just to make sure we have a roof over our heads, electricity, and—on a good week—food in the fridge.
After downsizing to a lower-cost apartment, I might finally be in a position to quit my retail job and reclaim my weekends. I shared this with my mom, thinking she’d be relieved. Instead, she’s now talking about quitting her one job so she can stay home.
And honestly? That makes me angry. What makes her think she can quit? She wants my approval, but if she does, it means I’ll be stuck working seven days a week indefinitely. I’m this close to surviving on one paycheck. Barely. What makes her think that she can quit if I quit? How does that add up mathematically?
So… is it wrong of me to want my 72-year-old mother to keep working?
On a completely different note, I still haven’t received any real feedback on Book 2. To be fair, maybe three people read Book 1, so it’s not like anyone is lining up for the sequel. I’ll finish it eventually—maybe, probably when I stop wanting to strangle the FMC. Maybe I just need to finish it to finish it. Maybe it’s not as long as it feels. Maybe I should stop equating book length with chapter count. Who knows. At this point, I barely have the energy to make it to the jobs that pay me to show up. It’s hard to find the will to work on something that isn’t paying off, even if I enjoy writing.
I honestly never thought I’d write at all. I never believed I was creative enough or had enough imagination to build worlds or stories. But once I started, it just flowed. I’ll be upfront, though—I do use AI to help with character and world-building. I know some people have strong feelings about that, but it’s been incredibly helpful. It’s much faster to work through how a character might react based on their profile, or whether a certain kind of business would logically exist in a town of 1,000 people.
Because let’s be real—if you’ve read the story, you know it takes place in a very small town… with a tech company. My logical brain absolutely questioned that. So I worked through how it could make sense. Same with why an accomplished EA would move to a town that doesn’t even know what an EA is, or how she’d survive without job prospects in her field. AI helped me find a solution that actually made sense for the setting (hello, reasonable divorce settlement).
…And I just realized I gave away most of the plot 😳
At this point I’m mostly just rambling—which, honestly, tracks. That’s how I write. I start typing and see where it goes. Book 1 was heavily outlined, almost essay-like. Book 2? I followed the characters… and they led me straight to hell.
Anyway. Back to work.
I hope the few of you who are still here are having a great day, week, and month. And I wish you all a very happy New Year.
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