On Writing the Hard Things

A change of plans, a moment of truth, and a peek behind the curtain.

Hey friends,

Sometimes you sit down to write one thing, and something else comes out entirely.

That's what happened this week. I intended to write a simple post, but instead, I ended up writing something incredibly personal and raw about the many different facets of grief. Honestly, it feels a little too vulnerable for a public post.

It's more of a diary entry.

So, I've decided to share the full, uncut essay with my paid community—The Hive—this Thursday.

It's a heavy one, but an honest one. If you'd like to read the full piece and get access to all the other exclusive content like my "Author's Diary" and early-access book chapters, I'd be honored to have you join us inside The Hive.

Here's the thing they don't put in the grief pamphlets... grief isn't the dignified, linear process... No, grief is the roommate from hell who never pays rent but somehow takes up all the available emotional real estate... "Miss me?" they say with that insufferable smirk, and you realize you've been punk'd by your own psychology.

The full piece explores this and much more. It's a heavy one, but an honest one.

If you'd like to read it this Thursday and get access to all my private "Author's Diary" posts and early-access book chapters, I'd be honored to have you join The Hive.