This Started Out As Encouragement

I have to constantly remind myself that I’m only 20. I even caught myself telling someone once that I was 24 on accident. Oops… I certainly feel like 24 anyway. After all of that divorce business, I feel like I aged a good 6-8 years or something.

But that’s not the point. Not really.

I’m 20, living at my father’s house/boyfriend’s house/car. I don’t feel like I have a home. My boyfriend lives with his family still, so it’s occasionally awkward staying the weekends there. The only times I stay at the place I use as my address, (my dad’s house) is on the workweek nights. 

Many people don’t seem to realize how stressful this is. I feel like I need to choose a life. I can’t choose staying with my boyfriend’s h


Forgot My Notebook

I’ve been working on plotting on my latest story, Coast Tied. I’ve been working on this book for about a year now. Saying it makes it sound like such a long time! I was about 10 chapters in when I couldn’t do it anymore. It had so many plot holes and I didn’t even know how I was going to end the story. So, I went and bought a notebook. 


A plotting notebook. I have found that it makes it so much easier to figure out what’s going on in my stories if I plot. I get to know my characters much faster and the excitement to begin writing is enough to spur me on through the dead zones of the writing process.

Mondays have been dedicated as my writing days. I work Tuesday-Saturday and it really makes it hard to come home and write. I try, but usually I don’t have the energy to do much else other than sit and stare at a wall. Working with dogs is more exhausting than it sounds. So, what I tend to do on my work days is write through my lunch hour. If the dogs aren’t barking up a storm, it’s kind of nice!

Today is Monday, which is awesome. I stay at my boyfriend’s over my weekend, so I’m at his house right now. The internet isn’t very fast, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and I get to puppy sit. It’s perfect for writing. The problem is, I forgot my notebook at home. That’s a big problem. I’m only about halfway done with my plotting. In fact, I might not even be that far with it.

But, I have a much better grasp of my characters and plot now. I even think I know how it’s going to end! Cue happy dances and a barking chihuahua! So, I’m going to spend today WRITING. I’m excited.

I’m very excited.

Lillia, it’s time for me to take over your world!

The Pen Ran Away!

Long time no see!





I have this pen that I’m obsessed with. Quite a lot, actually. Enough that I’ve had at least four of these expensive pens in the past four years and at least the same amount of pencils. It’s the pen by Dr. Grip. I love it. Too much.

I had two of them in working order not very long ago, but they began disappearing. One would be there for me when I needed it, but the other one would be nowhere to be found. They would switch places every few days. It was as though they hated each other. It seemed like the first pen was upset at me that I had replaced him so soon after he’d gone missing that one time.

Eventually, the pens grew to get along. At least somewhat. They must have figured out that I didn’t want to use them both at the same time, so they just had to coexist in the pencil box if they ever ended up there. Which they didn’t.

I forgot about the fancy pens for a few months. I will admit it. With the pens, I forgot about my dream of being an author and threw all of my effort into something else. When I came back, stressed, feeling lost, and wondering what happened to have made my brain such a scraggily mess of TV shows and dog grooming, the pens were gone.

It’s as though they won’t forgive me for leaving in such a frenzied hurry to find some way out of the mess I was in. But that’s alright. These pens survived with me though my college writing (attempt) carrier. But now that I have a full time job and am striving to survive this thing called young adulthood, I can’t be there for them as I had once wanted. At least not for now. At least not yet.

So this is my message to these inanimate objects known as pens, thank you for being there through everything. Helping me write down my feelings, helping me plot the life of a character, helping me brutally kill that very character off… Though I’m now working 8-6pm 5 days a week like much of the world, it doesn’t mean I’m gone! I’m still here! I still want to be an author, and I will never let that dream go. 

I’m too much of a cheapskate now to spend the money on a new one, so I want you to always know you have a spot here. So, might you consider returning?

Procrastination Must Be Destroyed!

So, procrastination is a good friend of mine.We go way back… But our relationship shall be kept a secret.

Only, I think it’s time to end it.

It became a hurtful relationship. So… I must say goodbye!


I have no freaking clue. Every night, I promise myself that I will actually wake up at 6 in the morning, do some yoga, make a healthy breakfast, get ready (even do my hair!) and then have a while to sit and read or write. A good start to my day before I have to be at work.

Now, what actually ends up happening is this; the alarm goes off and I hit the snooze button – even edit it for thirty minutes. When it decides I can’t snooze anymore, I do the required math problems to shut it up and go back to sleep until my next alarm goes off. This repeats itself until 7:30 or 8. I have to leave the house at 8:30.

Evil procrastination!

Of course, this cycle isn’t because I stay up late. I physically can’t. I fight dogs all day long, so I’m quite exhausted by the time I get home after dark. I’m honestly not sure how I get myself to exercise. (Seriously! Why am I not procrastinating on THAT?! Is that my way of procrastinating on my writing? Well… it’s healthy?)

Perhaps my over sleeping is because I’m getting too much sleep? I’ve heard that can be a problem too. It would make sense.

Sleeping besides the point, I want to write.

I want to finish a novel I’ve been working on for a couple of months now. I REALLY want to finish it. It’s a really good plot, if I do say so myself. It’s about mermaids…. and an evil scientist… and kidnappings…. That’s all the information I’m disclosing due to me being overly paranoid.

Why is it not finished? Why am I at a mere 14,000 words?


Curse word, curse word, procrastination.

I’m procrastinating on it right now, in fact.

I must admit, I’m writing a scene that I’m not particularly proud of. I don’t like the setting, or how it’s unfolding. It’s a boring scene. One that needs to explode into flames and then ram straight into a shooting star and burn again. But I’ll worry about it more in editing. Right now, I want to finish the book so I actually can edit it!

Wish me luck…

So, my question is this; What do you suggest to get myself to stop procrastinating? How do I make this novel a complete priority?

Those who have been following me for a while know this has been something I’ve struggled with a lot. I honestly enjoy writing and reading, but if I get stuck in a scene that isn’t working right, everything stops.



Author (n)

1. a person who writes a novel, poem, essay, etc.; the composer of a literary work, as distinguished from a compiler, translator, editor, or copyist.

A couple days ago, I wrote about at what point a person becomes an author. The thought of it still hasn’t left my mind. Everywhere I turn, there’s a saying or an inspirational quote saying something to the effect of; ‘You are what you think you are’. So maybe I am an author after all.

Today, I ran across a video that encouraged me all the more. I wanted to share it with ya’ll. (Okie… remember?)

So without further ado, the encouraging video!

Insert drumroll here



At What Point Does A Person Become an Author?

“So, what do you want to do with your life?” Every older adult asks me. I look like I’m about 16 instead of a person with an AS degree, so asking what I want to be seems understandable. My answer never gets a great reaction.

“An author.” Short, sweet, and to the point. After all, I know what’s coming.

A smirk comes next, and maybe an awkward laugh as they look at the person they assume is about 16, simply because I drove myself there. “Wellllll…” (yes, it is always said much longer than it should be) “Are you published?”

At this point in the conversation I feel ashamed. “No…”

“Oh. Okay then.” That is the end of the conversation and I retreat awkwardly. I know very well they instantly think something along the lines of; ‘Nah, she’s not an author. Just some kid who doesn’t want to put forth the effort.’ Granted, the bad part of my brain takes control whenever I consider what someone is thinking. For all I know, they could be thinking good things about me. I just never feel like that’s the case.

Regardless, it always makes me wonder, at what point does a person become an author?

If someone who writes a single essay in their lives claims to be an author – I argue. But is it the same case for a person who has yet to publish anything, but is working toward that goal? Does a person become an author whenever they publish their first work, or whenever they have a good number of books on the shelf?

I just wonder, at what point do I cross over the line from one who writes frequently to an author?