Coffee & Ghost Light
The steam curls a little differently this week—thin, white, almost spectral.
Halloween always tastes like nostalgia and static in the air. Every October, I find myself writing before sunrise, candle lit, waiting for the world to wake and wondering how many ghosts live in old drafts.
Maybe that’s what writing really is—haunting yourself on purpose until the story forgives you.
This morning, I saw my reflection in the dark window again, but she smiled first. Maybe that’s a good omen. Maybe she’s reminding me that stories never die; they just change mirrors.
Reflection Prompt: What memory still feels like it’s standing just behind you, waiting to be rewritten?
Halloween always tastes like nostalgia and static in the air. Every October, I find myself writing before sunrise, candle lit, waiting for the world to wake and wondering how many ghosts live in old drafts.
Maybe that’s what writing really is—haunting yourself on purpose until the story forgives you.
This morning, I saw my reflection in the dark window again, but she smiled first. Maybe that’s a good omen. Maybe she’s reminding me that stories never die; they just change mirrors.
Reflection Prompt: What memory still feels like it’s standing just behind you, waiting to be rewritten?
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Coffee, Chaos, & Characters
This is Coffee, Chaos, and Characters — my author blog. Here I share the messy magic of writing: from tattoo-inspired story sparks and hydra-headed plot ideas, to character quirks, book sneak peeks, a
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