Behind the Pages: The Beautiful Chaos of the Last Few Weeks

The past few weeks have been a blur in the best (and occasionally most exhausting) of ways. Spring break hit like a whirlwind, and life decided to stack family adventures, unexpected weather, creative nerves, and one unforgettable milestone all at once.

We kicked things off with the Irish Festival (an early celebration for Saint Patrick's Day), which was supposed to be a full day of music, dancing, and sunshine. Instead, Florida did what Florida often does — the skies opened up not long after the parade that signaled the kickoff to the festivities. One minute we were cheering, the next we were sprinting for cover from a wickedly loud and colorful thunderstorm. We ended up at Denny’s, dripping rainwater and laughing over lunch before heading back out to keep the celebration going anyway. Because honestly, when you’re already soaked, why not? (No worries, the weather turned in our favor.) My boys — all teenagers — discovered the ax‑throwing booth and had the time of their lives learning how to “safely” hurl sharp objects at wooden targets. Nothing bonds a family quite like cheering on your kids while silently praying they don’t channel their inner Viking too enthusiastically.

And then came the part of spring break that no one advertises but every parent knows too well... Somewhere between the festival chaos and the goal of most spring-breakers (beach serenity), I had to survive a different kind of adventure — one with no sunscreen, no blissful ocean breeze, and absolutely no mercy: Spring Cleaning. So, in true 'Me' fashion, I dove in. And like all good cleaning journeys, it went through several dramatic phases:

• Messy.

• More messy. (Yes, I said it.)

• Why did I start this?!

• Requesting immediate backup!

• Okay, progress...

• Victory is on the horizon.

  
  

But somehow — fueled by sheer stubbornness, loads of caffeine in quantities we shall not overly examine, and the faint hope of a clean house — I pushed through. Room by room, the house started to feel lighter. Fresher. More ours again. It’s not perfect — there are still a few odd jobs lurking in corners, waiting for their moment — but it feels amazing to breathe in a space that once again matches the energy I want to carry into the rest of the year.

The following day, we rewarded ourselves with a beach day — letting the waves wash away the last bits of stress and dust bunnies clinging to my soul. The ocean has a way of reminding me that rest is part of the process, not a luxury. Well, we didn't actually spend the entire day, more like the afternoon to be more precise... showing up to my first major event looking like a cooked lobster was not in the plans.

And then… the big one.

For weeks, I’d been carrying this knot of anxiety about my upcoming Barnes & Noble book signing event. Excited, yes — but also nervous in that “what if no one shows up” way that every indie author knows too well. And honestly, it wasn't just the emotional prep — the logistical chaos was real!

Yard signs to advertise for the big event! I used Canva to help me create the design and purchased them on Amazon.

I'm telling y'all now, in the final days leading up to the event, I found myself in a full-blown last-minute sprint: designing bookmarks and flyers (thank you Canva), getting them printed at our local Staples (love that store) and Amazon, and handing the flyers out anywhere that would allow me to leave a stack. I took physical inventory of my books and supplies not once, not twice, but... let's just say "multiple times" because my nerves refused to trust the math and simply kept getting the better of me.

Of course, I can't just tell y'all about all that without pointing out the "Jeep situation"...

Now, I don't know about y'all, but I baby my Jeep. She was thoroughly cleaned — inside and out, buffed until she shined like she was about to step on stage as the next Ms. America... and that was just the beginning. I loaded everything that had been endlessly inventoried into her. Then I unloaded everything. Then reloaded it. Then unloaded it again because I was certain that I forgot something important. Then reloaded it one more time for good measure. By the time the actual day arrived, I felt like I'd already run a marathon — mentally, emotionally, and in terms of the sheer number of trips to and from my front door. (I got my steps in!)

But it was a bit more than just the usual author nerves type of anxiety... As some of you may know, I live with PTSD that is rudely accompanied by severe anxiety. And honestly, my brain kept inventing totally outrageous scenarios, most of them ridiculous, but anxiety rarely cares about logic.

However, time marches on and the day came. Finally. It turned out to be so much more than I imagined! First of all, let me just say that the staff at Barnes & Noble's new location in Port Saint Lucie, Florida are genuinely great people. They made the event go smoothly, printed a table poster for me, brought me water, gave me a strip of golden stickers that proclaimed each book I signed that day as a Barnes & Noble Signed Edition, and occasionally made store-wide announcements to let everyone know that I was onsite.

Once things got rolling, I met other indie authors who live right here in my area — people who understand the grind, the passion, the stubbornness it takes to build something from scratch. And then something happened that I’m still processing: a reader drove more than 100 miles just to attend my event! I’m still floored by that level of support and kindness.

The whole experience was crazy and fun and overwhelming and exhausting… and absolutely worth every second! These past few weeks reminded me why I do what I do. Why I keep writing. Why I keep showing up even when I’m tired or scared or unsure. Because moments like these — the laughter, the connection, the shared love of stories — make everything else fade into the background.

So here I am, catching my breath, grateful for the chaos and the calm, and excited for whatever comes next.

Chaos, calm, rainstorms, Vikings-in-training, dust bunnies, and a milestone I'll never forget — I'll take it all.