The Author I’m Still Becoming

 I used to think becoming an author would feel like crossing a finish line.

One day, the book would be done.
The cover would be finished.
The files would be uploaded.
The publish button would be pressed.

And then, somehow, I would feel different.

More certain.
More official.
More prepared to stand in front of people and say, “Yes, I’m an author.”

But what I am learning is that becoming an author does not happen all at once.

It happens in layers.

It happens the first time you take your own work seriously.
It happens when you keep writing after the excitement wears off.
It happens when you revise the scene instead of abandoning the story.
It happens when you send the newsletter, post the update, set up the author table, and talk about the book even when your voice shakes a little.

And it keeps happening long after the book is published.

Saying the Word Out Loud

There is something strange about calling yourself an author for the first time.

At least there was for me.

Writing privately felt safer. I could write in notebooks, draft scenes, revise poems, and work through ideas without needing to explain any of it. The work could stay tucked away until I was ready.

But being an author asks for more than writing.

It asks you to be visible.

It asks you to say the thing out loud.

“I wrote a book.”

“My book is published.”

“I’m an author.”

Those sentences sound simple, but they carry weight.

Because once you say them, you are no longer only dreaming about the creative life. You are admitting you are living one.

That can be exciting.

It can also feel exposed.

For a while, I think part of me waited for someone else to confirm it. As if I needed a certain number of sales, reviews, events, or polished accomplishments before the word author fully belonged to me.

But I am starting to understand that the title does not arrive because I finally feel fearless.

It arrives because I keep showing up to the work.

After the Book Is Published

Publishing The Taste of Crimson: Angyel was a milestone I will always be proud of.

This book started as an idea, then became a draft, then a stronger draft, then a finished story with a cover, a description, a product page, and a place in the world.

That still amazes me.

But publication did not turn me into some perfectly confident version of myself.

It did not erase the nerves.
It did not make marketing effortless.
It did not magically organize every future project into neat little rows.

What it did was open the next door.

Once Angyel was out in the world, I had to learn how to keep going. How to talk about a book after release day. How to keep sharing it without feeling like I was repeating myself. How to move into the next project while still honoring the one I had already finished.

That is a different kind of author work.

It is quieter than launch day.

It is less dramatic than pressing publish.

But it matters.

Because a creative life is not built only in the big moments. It is built in what you do after them.

The Work in Front of Me Now

Right now, I am in a new season.

I am editing Raised by Wind, my Wyoming-rooted poetry collection, and working on The Taste of Crimson: Marcie.

These two projects ask very different things from me.

Raised by Wind brings me back to prairie, memory, weather, childhood, family, land, and the long emotional pull of home. Editing it requires patience. Poetry does not let me hide behind extra words. Every line has to carry its weight. Every image has to earn its place. Every rhythm has to feel true.

Some days, editing that collection feels like listening for something half-buried in the wind.

Then there is Marcie.

Returning to the world of Crimson through Marcie’s eyes feels familiar and new at the same time. Her voice is not Angyel’s voice. Her desires, fears, loyalties, and contradictions move differently. She brings another layer to the world I started building in The Taste of Crimson: Angyel.

Writing her reminds me that a series is not just more plot.

It is a deeper conversation.

Each character opens another door. Each book asks a new question. Each point of view makes me look at the world from another angle.

So this is where I am right now: somewhere between prairie wind and crimson shadows, learning how to carry more than one creative thread without dropping myself in the process.

The Public Side of Being an Author

One of the biggest adjustments for me has been learning the public side of this life.

Writing is private for a long time.

Publishing is not.

There are newsletters to write.
Blog posts to schedule.
Social media captions to create.
Images to choose.
Events to prepare for.
Books to display.
Links to share.
Conversations to have with people who ask, “So what do you write?”

That question still catches me sometimes.

Not because I do not know the answer, but because I am still learning how to answer without shrinking.

I write intimate stories.
I write about women becoming.
I write about desire, healing, identity, memory, and the complicated beauty of starting again.
I write poetry rooted in the land that shaped me.
I write fiction that lets women be messy, hungry, uncertain, brave, and fully alive.

That is the truth.

And the more I say it, the more I believe my own voice.

Confidence Comes Through Practice

I used to think confidence came first.

That once I felt confident enough, I would show up more easily. I would promote the book without hesitation. I would talk about my writing without stumbling. I would walk into author spaces feeling like I belonged.

But I think I had it backward.

Sometimes confidence comes because we show up before we feel ready.

We send the post.
We attend the event.
We introduce ourselves.
We revise the poem.
We work on the next chapter.
We answer the question.
We try again.

Not perfectly.

Just honestly.

Each small act builds trust with ourselves.

Every time I show up for the work, I teach myself that I can do it again.

Every time I speak about my books, I make the next conversation a little easier.

Every time I return to the page, I remember that the author I am becoming is not built on one perfect moment. She is built through repetition, courage, curiosity, and a willingness to keep learning.

Still Becoming

I am proud of what I have finished.

I am proud that The Taste of Crimson: Angyel is published.
I am proud of the poetry I am shaping in Raised by Wind.
I am proud that The Taste of Crimson: Marcie is beginning to find her voice.

But I also know I am not done becoming.

I am still learning how to balance the creative work with the rest of my life.

I am still learning how to talk about my books in a way that feels natural.

I am still learning how to build an author platform without losing the joy of writing.

I am still learning how to trust the slow work.

And maybe that is the point.

Maybe being an author is not a single identity we step into fully formed.

Maybe it is a relationship we keep growing into.

One draft at a time.
One book at a time.
One conversation at a time.
One brave little step at a time.

I am not the same writer I was when I started.

I am not even the same writer I was when I published The Taste of Crimson: Angyel.

And I hope that keeps being true.

Because the author I am becoming is still surprising me.

And I want to keep meeting her.