Gold Star Day
I’ve been deep in the zone this week. The kind of hyper focus that shows up like a storm, sudden, consuming, and strangely beautiful. It’s one of the many gifts and curses of living on the spectrum of mental health issues, but that’s a conversation for another day. Today, I want to talk about PROGRESS.
I’ve finished scene-by-scene outlines for the first three chapters of my book. Real outlines with mood, dialogue, pacing, and tension.
Chapter 1 introduced Nicola, a grieving, sharp edged, stubborn detective pulled back to her hometown in the deep South, still wearing the ache of her wife’s absence like a second skin.
Chapter 2 cracked open the local mystery. Enter Warren, dry humor and too observant. Chief Oakley, tired, wary, not telling Nicola everything. And there’s the scent of blood in the air.
Chapter 3, well 2 and 3 really, thats where writer/author Grace made her entrance. She’s dramatic, unnerving, and oddly magnetic. Grace is either a witness or something worse. Nicola can’t tell. Neither can I, just yet.
There’s a bad guy too. One with a punch and a bite. A real monster, though maybe not the kind you’d expect to be alone.
This book has been living in my head for a long time, but now it’s starting to take shape on the page. I’m considering tracking my progress the way I did as a kid growing up in a haunted house: with a star chart. Yes, really. It was the only thing that got me to sleep in my own room. Each night I survived, I earned a little gold sticker. Sometimes, we need visual proof that we’re braver than we feel. So that’s the vibe right now. Quiet progress. Haunted women. Southern Gothic slow-burn. A murder or two. And maybe a star chart taped to the wall.
Thanks for being here. I’m going to keep going.
Harlo
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