From the Shadows
It was a perfect summer day. The sun was strutting across a cloudless sky, and we were on our way to the Indiana Dunes Beach. GPS said it would be about an hour drive, and traffic was light. My husband, son, and I were all in great spirits, full of excitement. Ready to dive into the lake.
My husband drives all the time, and I know our safety is his greatest concern. We get onto the highway, and I feel the car pick up speed. Something about it feels too fast. I instantly look at the speedometer.
80 miles per hour.
I check the speed limit.
70.
My heart wakes up a little. Anything that was on my mind before this evaporates. My body jerks forward as he presses on the brake. A car zips in front of us and snakes between the other cars up ahead. My stomach is in my throat now. My heart is beating so fast I fear it may jump out the front windshield and drag me with it.
I turn toward my husband. As he looks over at me, I quickly put a smile on my face.
Flashes of the future bounce around my head. We crash. The car flips multiple times until we are all obliterated, leaving only our teeth behind to identify us.
I need a distraction, so I grab my phone, open Instagram, and begin to scroll. But all I see are images of our horrible accident. I close my phone. Sleep is the only way out. I close my eyes and discreetly take deep breaths until my heart puts itself back in its place. I don’t open them again until we reach our destination.
Finally, when I step out of the car, I can breathe again.
Welcome to the inside of my brain when anxiety takes control.
It’s wild to think that my mind can write horror all on its own at any given time. And let me tell you, some of the shit it writes is horrifying.
Imagine being so tired at night you can barely keep your eyes open, but your mind won’t let you sleep. You lay there in a cycle of worrying thoughts. In a perpetual nightmare created by your own mind. You sleep maybe an hour or two and then go on living the next day in a daze, everything coated in a gray filter. Or what I like to call wearing anxiety goggles.
All you can see is the future. All the worst-case scenarios of the fictional future your brain is tricking you into believing will come true. So you must prepare for it. Make sure you know all the Ws for anything you do. Who? What? Where? When? Why? It’s your only way of feeling in control.
And while you’re thinking about all of those things that most likely will never happen, you’re robbed of your present.
Living like this is hard. Always on edge, your nervous system out of whack. And it can be lonely too. Because uh oh, you don’t want to show your anxiety on your face because it can be a buzzkill. Or worse, people will pathologize you, viewing you as weak and unstable.
Some mean well and try to control the environment so it doesn’t trigger your anxiety. Others weaponize it against you. Say things like, “Oh, you and your anxiety,” or “She’s going to end up just like her mother.” They tell people at parties not to let their child cry because “Tina has anxiety.”
What a way to make someone feel small. As if we don’t already know we have anxiety. Plus, our attention was already on the other kid jumping on the sketchy death trampoline without any adult supervision.
But when our anxiety is treated like an inconvenience or something everyone else has to tiptoe around, we can start to feel like a burden. So we learn to hide it. To suppress it. And now our anxiety starts having babies, and we have anxiety about our anxiety. We wear masks and become people pleasers, making sure every ounce of anxiety is squeezed back behind the mask, never to be seen.
You know what you can’t do in a state like this? Work on creative projects. Feel joy. See the beauty in life. Be in the present moment. Instead, we can become numb. Our bodies start to warn us that something is wrong, and eventually we become so full of suppressed emotions and anxiety that it all comes raging out in sudden outbursts.
I’ve experienced all of this during many different stages of my life, and to be honest, I still do. There was also a period when I was using a lot of THC because I thought it would help me relax. Jokes on me. It was basically like giving my anxiety espresso shots. It fueled the overthinking, paranoia, and panic instead of quieting it. It took me going months without sleep, living with constant anxiety and panic attacks, to finally realize I needed help.
I went to therapy, and it helped tremendously. Just the simple act of talking about it helped. I learned about a ton of tools, but I also came face-to-face with the root of my anxiety.
See, when you go through most of your childhood and early adult life constantly living in chaos, always feeling like you’re falling, when you eventually have stable ground beneath your feet, your brain sometimes doesn’t get the memo. You’re constantly worried the floor is going to be ripped out from under you.
I understand my anxiety better now. That doesn’t mean I’ve conquered it. It still shows up. The difference is that I’m learning to recognize what’s happening instead of letting it completely consume me.
The Monster Grows | Inside Draft Two
After five months away, I’m happy to say that I’m officially in draft two. Not the planning and outlining of it, but the actual rewrite. I’ve stuck to my plan of writing four days a week and have finished rewriting two and a half chapters. I know, I know, that doesn’t seem like a lot, but to me it’s everything. It’s the momentum I needed to fight against Greta and get back into my story. This past month was all about tiny, consistent action.
What’s changed? My novel has become the priority during my writing sessions. Of course, there’s a downside to that. I’m just one person, and I can’t do it all, no matter how many times I try. Because of that, I haven’t had time to work on any other smaller fiction projects. While I still carve out time for these newsletters and the Garden Diaries, those only get a few days a month. Most of my creative energy is devoted to my novel. Which also means I’ve basically gone silent on things like Substack Notes and other social media.
During draft one, the goal was to get the story out as fast as possible. And while that helped and gave me a wonky-ass skeleton of a novel, I believe editing is where the real work begins. I’ve also given myself permission to go slow.
The main goal for draft two is to deepen the characters and their relationships, give my main protagonist more agency, and make the relationship between my two protagonists one half of the emotional heart of the novel. Things I’m not focusing on this round are the lore, supernatural elements, prose, or line editing. Knowing that about 75% of draft one will be rewritten, I’m hoping to have a full stable skeleton with one huge, deep-red heart pumping at its center by the end of draft two.
One of the most exciting things I’ve discovered this past month is how much I love writing in a library. Unfortunately, I can only do it once a week, but I’ve been protecting those Saturday morning sessions with my life.
I’ve also started giving myself shorter writing sessions. As much as I want to write for four or five hours at a time, my brain eventually turns to mush, and after a while, that’s what ends up on the page. I’ve also learned that if I spend all my spare time writing without leaving room for rest and fun, I’ll burn out faster than a supernova. Depending on the day, my writing sessions vary from one to three hours max. That means I have to come to each session prepared and have a general idea of the goal for that day.
A few other secret weapons I’ve been relying on this past month? Lifting heavy weights while listening to my book playlist on the morning of each writing day. Not only do I get confidence and endorphins from lifting, but I also step into each writing session already believing I can do hard things.
Oh, and I’ve been reading a lot of horror and listening to audiobooks while I’m at the office. I literally just spent the last three hours reading and finishing a book before writing this newsletter. I know, not exactly a great example of time management, but I got to that point in the book—you know the one—where I just had to keep reading. Jokes on me, the book ended on a huge cliffhanger, and the second book doesn’t come out until April 2027. The best part? It was a YA zombie horror novel, which isn’t usually a genre I gravitate toward.
Anyway, the point is I’ve been reading a lot and reading widely, and it’s reminding me what a great story can do. It fills me with inspiration and excitement to write one of my own.
Looking back, I think all of these little habits have done more than help me make progress on draft two. They’ve also helped quiet some of the anxiety that had been keeping me stuck.
As summer comes to an end and we get our son back into a school routine, I usually feel revitalized too. I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved this season. It motivates me to get to work. And while I know it’ll be tough and I’ll fight a gazillion battles with Greta, I’m excited to spend the next several months deep in draft two.
A Bloom of Terror
Every month, I’ll plant a little horror here. Sometimes it will be a short fiction story, other times personal essays.
The Haunted Shelf 📚🎬📺
This is where I’ll share book, movie, and show recommendations. I’d love to know what you’re reading and watching, so feel free to reply with your own favorites.
📚 The Book
Hazelthorn by C.G. Drews. A YA queer botanical gothic horror book with a literal bloodthirsty haunted garden, murder mystery, and enemies to lovers. Come on! Could there be a more perfect book for me to read?! 😜
The writing was beautiful, and I absolutely adored the story. Without giving too much away, it follows Evander, a 17-year-old autistic boy who has lived at the Hazelthorn estate for as long as he can remember. Confined to his room for “medical reasons” by his billionaire guardian, Evander’s world flips upside down when his guardian unexpectedly dies. Evander is convinced his guardian was murdered and forms an alliance with Laurie, a boy he is obsessed with but also hates because he believes Laurie tried to kill him years ago, to figure out who did it.
They learn that the estate was left to Evander, and of course this causes friction with the other greedy family members who make their way there for the funeral. Slowly, the truth begins to unfold.
What touched me the most, and honestly broke my heart multiple times, was whenever Evander would have an episode. Those episodes were used to gaslight him into believing he was a monster. He was a boy who suffered horrible trauma, and even just leaving his room could spike his anxiety. He always carried the heaviness of impending doom and couldn’t trust anyone or anything.
The way the author wrote these anxiety-driven episodes was stunning and filled with gorgeous, visceral metaphors. I could feel the raw emotion jump off the page and straight into my heart.
Maybe it’s because, deep down, I saw a part of myself in those pages.
🎬 The Movie
Hereditary is probably one of the scariest movies I’ve ever seen. I originally watched it about a year and a half ago as research for my book, right around the time I became obsessed with horror. There are a couple specific scenes that still give me the hebegebees just thinking about them, and they both involve decapitations. All of the actors were fantastic, but I have to give it up for Toni Collette as Annie Graham. She was incredible.
It’s a deeply unsettling supernatural psychological horror movie about a grieving family who discovers there may be something much darker and demonic lurking within their family history. It also touches on trauma, grief, and a family history of mental illness.
As the movie progresses, both the mother and her teenage son begin to lose their sanity and spiral out of control, leading to one crazy and scary AF final act.
There are so many different ways you can interpret this movie, but the one that stuck with me was how much of it felt like a metaphor for anxiety and panic attacks. That feeling of losing control of your own mind. Of not knowing if you can trust yourself. And underneath all of that is the fear of inheriting mental illness from your family. I carry both of those fears. Maybe that’s part of the reason this movie scared the absolute shit out of me.
📺 The Show
Something Very Bad Is Going to Happen is a psychological horror Netflix series about a bride-to-be who becomes convinced something terrible is going to happen before her wedding, sending her anxiety and paranoia into overdrive. Oh, and there’s a curse involved.
This entire show was filmed in a way that made the viewer, or at least me, feel anxious the entire time. Between the score and the camera work, I constantly felt like something terrible was about to happen. The fear of the unknown and that feeling of impending doom were done so well.
There are a ton of themes and interpretations throughout the show, like marriage, the idea of a “soul mate,” personal identity, family dynamics, and on and on. But to me, this show was another exploration of anxiety, family history, and what it means to want to be the one who finally breaks the cycle.
From My Creative Crypt
This is my little corner for fun extras.
This month I thought it’d be fun to share my book playlist that I’ve been listening to on writing days. I truly believe music has superpowers. It can boost your mood, but it can also inspire you and transport you into another world. Below is a glimpse into my book’s world through music.
The Last Whisper
Thank you for making it all the way to the end of my haunted little newsletter. If you enjoyed it, I’d love if you replied back, shared it with a friend, or just let me know what you’re reading and watching. Your support means the world to me as I start this author journey.
Before I go, here is your reminder:
If you struggle with anxiety, please know that you are not alone.
There are things that I’ve learned over the years that have helped me with anxiety.
• Daily movement. A powerful tool that helps take me out of my head and into my body. Plus, it’s just great for my overall health.
• Journaling. First thing in the morning and before bed. It’s literally just a raw stream of consciousness from my brain to the physical pen and onto the paper. Doing this on a screen doesn’t help me as much.
• Gardening and bird watching. Those two things almost force my brain to be present because everything about them is fleeting. Take your eye off it for a second, and you could miss a daddy goldfinch feeding its baby while standing on the stem of a zinnia you grew from seed.
• Writing horror. One of my favorite outlets for my anxiety. It’s a safe space where I’m in control and can explore and face my fears.
Anxiety does not make us weak or less of a person. I believe that some of the same parts of our brains that fuel our anxiety can also become our superpowers. All those what-if scenarios can make us strategic planners and detail-oriented. We may notice things other people miss. Some of us are deeply empathetic and emotionally aware, which, let’s face it, the world needs more of.
And when we can take some of that brain power and channel it into something else, like a creative project, we can create incredible work.
Your imagination can be a terrifying place, but it can also be your greatest power.
Anxiety is the worst. I know the feelings and scenarios you shared all too well. I'm glad to hear you found a good writing groove, that's exciting to get in a creative flow! Lately I've been branching into horror writing and for someone who is a notorious chicken shit that avoids it at all costs, I'm really kinda liking it haha. Maybe there is something to exploring my fears in a controlled setting!
A lot less bird talk than expected,lol. Sorry for the anxiety you feel!!