Here’s the current state of my writer brain:

Heavens Keys, Book One, is free on Amazon until Thursday. Yes, this is your invitation to go snag it while it’s still in the promo zone and pretend you discovered it before it was cool.
Under Darkness is complete, but it’s currently sitting in the metaphorical cooler—resting quietly so I don’t burn myself out on editing and end up taking a wrecking ball to everything that works. It’s not abandonment. It’s strategic retreat.
Meanwhile, Lightfall Rising—Book Three in the Heavens Keys series—is partly written. Right now, I’m editing the existing chapters to get back into the groove before diving back into full writing mode. I’ve also made some… adjustments. Subtle shifts. Things that may—or may not—echo forward in ways readers won’t notice until it’s too late. Just making sure everything lines up before I unleash chaos in an organized, narratively satisfying way.
And while I’m sitting here quietly editing—trying to be a focused little author goblin—my thoughts keep drifting back to Heavens Keys. The book that’s out there. Being read. By actual people.

And that’s when it hits me.
OMG. People are reading it.
What if they hate it?
What if someone finishes the book, sets their Kindle down gently, and just whispers, “Well. That happened.” Not angry. Not inspired. Just… emotionally beige.

Look, I get it. This is the dream. Publishing a book. Reaching readers beyond friends, family, and that one supportive raccoon who lives in my emotional garbage can. But the moment it actually happens? The brain decides to pull a full system error and scream into the void.

To really spice things up, I’ve got The King’s Avatar playing in the background for the umpteenth time, with Ylang Ylang smirking like he knows exactly how unhinged I’ve become. Meanwhile, I.N. from Stray Kids has taken up permanent residence in my mental periphery, doing his “Hallucination” belly dance with all the grace and none of the chill. ADHD is bouncing around like a loot goblin on a sugar high, and I’m just here pretending this is what focus looks like.

But here’s the thing.

If people are reading your book, and you’re freaking out about it? That means you’re in the game. You’re doing the scary, vulnerable, real part. And that panic? It’s just the brain’s weird way of marking a milestone.

So if you’re like me—refreshing your stats, side-eyeing your reviews, wondering if anyone noticed that one line you rewrote seventeen times—just know you’re not alone. This is the process. Messy, exciting, a little horrifying… and real.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go “edit” while my brain replays dramatic sword fights and emotionally confusing choreography on loop.

Keep writing. Keep spiraling. It’s part of the magic.

—Author, Slightly Panicked But Still Here