A year ago, my husband renewed our vows at sunrise. This week, separating belongings, I found the card he'd given me that day. So much can change in a year.
memoir
Two-Hour Tuesdays
Two-Hour Tuesdays is here. The blog that became a book, and the practice that's teaching me how to write the next one — a chapter at a time, at the water.
The Sun Rises and Sets on an Author
There is a white wicker loveseat on the sand. It does not belong there… and neither do I, quite, living in three pasts at once through three books. A sunrise spot visited at sunset, and the quiet realization that I've been so busy surviving — and so busy writing about God — that I forgot I was made to delight in Him.
The Week the Book Left My Hands
My book has been out for one week. In that week, I sent over two hundred personal messages and watched the responses break me open in a way the writing never did. The book is finding the people it was written for.
Fearfully, Wonderfully, and Bipolar-ly Made
Mary Beth came to the pier last night with my camera and told me where to stand. Fearfully, Wonderfully, and Bipolar-ly Made: From Shame to Sanctuary is available today on Amazon.
He Knows My Name
I brought Mama Marci to the sunrise. She couldn't see the heron. She trusted me. Fearfully, Wonderfully, and Bipolar-ly Made releases next Tuesday, April 14.
The First Right Choice
I took a year off to write a book, then went back to work. Finally, the story underneath the stories. Fearfully, Wonderfully, and Bipolar-ly Made: From Shame to Sanctuary releases April 14.
The Book I Didn’t Know I Was Writing
In October 2024, an acquisition editor told me I didn't have the platform publishers need. Fifteen months later, a VP publisher said the same thing. They weren't wrong—I hadn't earned the trade publishing route. But in those fifteen months of waiting, I discovered something: I would have published the wrong book.
When Glory Fades: Recognizing Divine Yes in the Waiting
Thursday morning, standing in that tangerine fire, I'd felt held by something infinite. The sunrise was teaching me something about recognition: This is what arrival feels like. This is what yes tastes like—metallic and sweet on your tongue. But when the publishing offer came, where was the orange glow? Sometimes the holiest ground is right there in the middle, suspended between shores.
Writer's Growth 