What up, down, and all around…

One of the things I’ve always loved about creative work is that it rarely asks permission before changing your plans.

Sometimes you carefully map out an editorial calendar.

Sometimes the muse grabs you by the front of your shirt, points dramatically in another direction, and says, “Nope. We’re writing this now.”

Lately, it’s been the second one.

Over the past few weeks I’ve found myself completely immersed in a new novel. It started as a handful of conversations and character sketches, and somewhere along the way those characters decided they had opinions, relationships, inside jokes, and an alarming tendency to hijack my evenings. If you’ve ever written fiction, you probably know exactly what I mean. There comes a point where it no longer feels like you’re inventing the story—you’re simply trying to keep up with it.

It’s honestly been a joy.

The downside, of course, is that there are only so many hours in a day.

Beyond Ink Blots and Teapots, I’ve also started another project that has quietly become very important to me: The Living Rosary Archives.

For those who haven’t stumbled across it yet, it’s a completely separate blog devoted to the history, craftsmanship, symbolism, and preservation of rosaries and chaplets. As I’ve continued exploring my faith as an adult, I found myself researching one question after another, and eventually realized I was building something much larger than a folder of notes. The Archives became a place to gather those discoveries, document my own collection, and preserve the stories behind devotional objects that often travel through generations of hands.

It’s a very different corner of my creative life.

Some of you may notice notifications from both blogs since I’m the author behind each of them. If faith and historical research aren’t really your cup of tea, that’s perfectly okay. The Living Rosary Archives exists for a different audience and a different purpose.

Ink Blots and Teapots remains home.

It’s where the poems wander in unexpectedly. It’s where the essays get a little too honest. It’s where whimsical ideas become surprisingly heartfelt stories. And it’s where a certain orange kitten named Benny continues to occupy an unreasonable amount of space in my imagination.

Speaking of Benny…

The Kitchen Chronicles are absolutely not finished.

In fact, our little household has just begun packing for a long weekend away, which means a new story arc is on the horizon. There will be road trips, questionable travel decisions, Buc-ee’s (because of course there will be Buc-ee’s), and what may become one of my favorite storylines yet as Jaguar attempts to teach Benny the “holy cat things” every young cat ought to know.

I have absolutely no confidence that this will go according to Jaguar’s plan.

Which, naturally, means it will be wonderful.

As all of this has grown, I’ve realized something important: creativity isn’t a race. It’s a garden.

Some things bloom quickly.

Some things take seasons.

Some things quietly grow roots beneath the surface long before anyone sees them.

Right now, I’m tending several gardens at once.

A blog devoted to creative writing.

A blog devoted to faith, history, and preservation.

A novel that’s become impossible to ignore.

A full-time career that still pays the bills.

And somewhere on the horizon, a cross-country move that’s slowly becoming more real with each passing month.

That’s a beautiful life.

It’s also a full one.

So you’ll probably notice the posting rhythm slowing a bit. Rather than trying to publish constantly, I’d rather share work that feels finished, thoughtful, and worth your time. Some weeks there may be one post. Some weeks there may be two. And every now and then the muse will inevitably throw the schedule out the window again.

I’ve learned not to argue with her.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for following these strange little creative paths with me.

And thank you for making space for whatever story decides to arrive next.

I’ll meet you back here soon.

Probably with a kitten, a guardian jaguar, and a stuffed Buc-ee beaver.