Five Books, Another Underway, and Another Story Quietly Taking Shape

Sometimes I stop and look at what I've written and wonder exactly how I got here.

Five books.

Another underway.

And another story quietly taking shape.

When I wrote my first book, I don't think I imagined that writing would eventually take me in so many different directions.

I've written memoir.

I've written poetry.

I've created a fantasy world that has continued growing beyond its first story.

And lately, I've found myself following another kind of story entirely.

One that began long before I did.

I Don't Think I Have One Kind of Story

The more I write, the less interested I am in fitting neatly into one category.

Each kind of writing gives me something different.

My memoir gave me a way to tell parts of my own story.

Poetry gave me somewhere to put the emotions, thoughts, and realizations that didn't always need pages of explanation.

Fantasy gave me freedom.

And now, researching my ancestry is giving me something else:

the thrill of discovery.

I've always enjoyed research, but family history is different because every discovery belongs to a much larger story that somehow leads back to me.

A name on a document stops being just a name.

A place becomes significant.

A date connects two pieces that didn't make sense before.

And every once in a while, something I've heard as a family story turns out not to be just a story after all.

When the Family Tales Turn Out to Be True

That's probably one of my favorite parts of ancestry research.

Families pass stories down.

Over time, details change. People forget names. One generation remembers something differently from another. Sometimes all that's left is a sentence someone remembers hearing when they were young.

And naturally, you begin to wonder:

Did that actually happen?

Then you find something.

A courthouse record.

A census.

A newspaper clipping.

A marriage record.

A military document.

A name appearing exactly where family lore said it should.

Suddenly, something you thought might have been embellished—or simply passed down incorrectly—has evidence behind it.

There is a particular kind of excitement in that moment.

I've even discovered that members of my maternal family were among the pioneers who moved west.

Those discoveries make history feel different.

We learn about migration, settlement, wars, economic changes, and generations of people moving across the country as historical events.

Then you discover your own family somewhere inside that history.

Suddenly, history isn't quite so distant anymore.

Following the Trail Backward

Ancestry research has also reminded me how much I enjoy chasing a question.

One discovery creates another.

You find one person, which leads to another name, which leads to another town, which leads to a document you weren't expecting.

And before you know it, you're several generations removed from the question you originally intended to answer.

There is always another branch.

Another record.

Another mystery.

Another wait...what? moment.

And I love that.

But I'm also beginning to realize that I don't only want to collect names and dates.

I want to understand the lives around them.

Who were these people?

Where did they go?

Why did they leave?

What did they survive?

What did they build?

What pieces of their lives were carried into the next generation without anyone realizing it?

That's where research begins turning into story.

And there is another project quietly beginning there.

I'm not ready to say too much about it yet.

For now, I'm following the records wherever they lead.

Then There's the Vale

And while one part of my brain is perfectly happy disappearing into historical records, another apparently needs magic.

That's where The Whispering Seasons comes in.

Writing fantasy gives me a completely different kind of freedom.

When I'm researching family history, I'm looking for evidence.

Did this really happen?

Can I verify this?

Does this record belong to the right person?

Do these dates make sense?

Fantasy asks almost the opposite of me.

What if?

When I enter the Vale, I don't have to worry about whether something could happen in our world.

It only has to make sense in the world I created.

That's incredibly freeing.

A Place Where My Mind Can Let Go

Fantasy has become a mental release for me.

I can sit down and simply let my imagination go.

A forest can remember.

The land can speak.

A season can carry power.

Someone can exist for thousands of years.

Magic doesn't need scientific proof or a historical record.

And something doesn't have to make complete sense according to the rules of our world.

It has to make sense according to the rules of mine.

There is something wonderfully liberating about that.

Of course, the world still needs consistency. Characters still need motivations. Actions have consequences. The Vale has its own history and its own rules.

But I get to decide what those rules are.

I can ask what if? and then follow the answer wherever it takes me.

No citations required.

Two Completely Different Kinds of Discovery

I've realized that ancestry and fantasy may look like opposite forms of writing, but they're satisfying two sides of the same curiosity.

With ancestry, I uncover a world that already existed.

With fantasy, I uncover a world that doesn't exist until I write it.

One asks me to follow evidence.

The other asks me to follow imagination.

One gives me the thrill of discovering something that is true.

The other gives me the freedom to create something where truth isn't the point at all.

And somehow, I need both.

Five Books Later...

I don't know that I ever deliberately decided to become a writer who moves between memoir, poetry, fantasy, and family history.

It just happened.

One book led to another.

One way of expressing myself opened the door to another.

And each has given me something I didn't know I needed when I began.

Now The Whispering Seasons continues, with another book underway and more of the Vale waiting to be discovered.

At the same time, names, records, family stories, and generations of history are beginning to form something else in my mind.

Another story.

A very different one.

I'm still researching.

Still discovering.

Still deciding exactly what it wants to become.

And I'm enjoying that part too.

There doesn't always have to be a rush to define the next thing.

Sometimes you can simply follow the story.

Five books later, I think that's one of the biggest things writing has taught me.

I don't have to choose between telling the truth, expressing a feeling, uncovering the past, or escaping into another world.

I can write all of it.

Apparently, I intend to.