Balancing Care: Serving Others Without Sacrificing Yourself

This is, at its core, an author blog, so it's no surprise that I've shared a lot about my writing and what it means to me: both the value of feeling gifted at something and the desire to use that gift for good. I've even shared a little about how I balance my non-Christian writing with my Christian faith, and how I often think of writing almost as a ministry.

What brings it together for me is connecting my writing to my healing journey and life after trauma, regardless of what I'm writing or who I'm writing it for. In fiction, I create stories about people navigating life's hardest challenges - toxic relationships, drastic life changes, deep personal losses. But my focus is rarely the external; instead, I explore the internal, the mind-set shift. What hurts them? What heals them? What moves them? How do their experiences and relationships foster love, connection, and growth?

The focus is the same when I'm creating content too, whether it's here on the blog or out on the wider-reaching spread of social media - which is probably part of why I love that opening quote so much: "Be there for others, but never leave yourself behind."

Being present for the people we love can be hard, especially if we're overly burdened, chronically busy, or struggling to find balance...but regardless of our faith or beliefs (or lack of them) love moves us to new levels of generous compassion. We feel compelled to show with action what we feel so deeply in the hidden spaces of our hearts. So this past week, I had the chance to put Dodinsky to the test.

I went into last week overwhelmed, with too much to do, too many things to juggle, and not enough time each day to check the boxes or meet the demands. My daughters and I were scheduled to housesit for family through the end of the week, and on top of the daily grind, I needed to handle all the packing, organizing, and planning to keep things running as smoothly as possible. Daily chaos had my internal volume on blast, and y'all, my plate was full.

But here's the thing: instead of stressing about getting it all done perfectly, I focused on gratitude and adjusted my expectations. I painted the whole thing as a staycation, planning treat dinners and a movie night as well as scheduling the writing tasks I needed to get done. I made a point to give myself grace. No one can accomplish everything, and perfection isn't possible; it's okay to give your best, recognize the joy in that, and let go of the rest.

Here's a snapshot of how that shift in perspective made even the busiest day of the week meaningful:

• Wednesday Stressed: Get up early, take my youngest to school. Simultaneously squeeze in a full writing day, a full shopping/planning day with my spiritual mom, and a full cleaning/packing/organizing day - with only half the usual time available. Pick up my youngest from school, pick up my oldest for work, grab dinner on the run while juggling multiple food allergies, and get to church on time to lead my student small group. (Bonus: Do all this while managing chronic fatigue, pain, and anxiety. Also I was sick.) Then get to the house, let out the dog, let in the dog, feed the dog, get the youngest to bed, shower, etc.
• Wednesday Blessed: Getting up early helped me make the most of the day - and since my youngest was out of the house, I could stay focused on the tasks at hand. Quality time with my spiritual mom gave me an emotional boost that pushed me through the tasks I needed to complete at home - and while I didn't get every box checked, I did get everything packed and loaded, dinner worked out, and we made it to the church right on time. My small group of ninth-grade girls brought their usual sweetness to the evening, and when we arrived for our little housesitting gig, we were greeted by a lovable, cuddly dog and a chatty, snuggly cat. We unloaded the car as a team, settled into the house, and I ended the night laughing with my oldest daughter over a game of HeadsUp. (Bonus: Fatigue and pain were manageable with meds and caffeine, I was too busy for anxiety, and I was too focused to worry about being sick.)

It could all have been stressful and hectic and filled with irritation. It could have been bickering and jostling and chaos - and while there were moments of crazy, overall the week was a wild success. Mindful perspective and careful management of expectations got us through the week, and my daughters and I created fun new memories together. Another bonus: this week gave me practical moments to teach my youngest daughter how showing up for others doesn't have to mean sacrificing ourselves.

Not only was this a great way for our family to serve people we dearly love in ways that were meaningful to them, but those staycation days were a much-needed change of pace and atmosphere for us. By Saturday afternoon, my oldest daughter had gone back home, my youngest daughter was rested and happy, I had finished almost everything in my writing planner, and my spiritual parents returned to a (mostly) clean and well-watched home.

It's important to be there for the people you love, to show up when it counts. But it's just as important to be show up for yourself - and it's okay if that means adjusting your expectations and setting boundaries, giving yourself grace, or actively seeking small joys in the middle of chaos. It turns out Dodinsky was onto something; all it takes is a little mindful intentionality, a desire to find balance, and the will to...

Ahem. Pardon me for a moment, while I share a little post-script update:

Writing is still coming along and we're right on schedule! STILL FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM's chapter 16 has been semi-finalized, chapter 17 is with the genius in charge of proofing and round-one edits, and chapter 18 is about three-quarters finished. And in case you didn't know, the expanded second edition of FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM is now available for preorder - make sure you grab your copy while it's still $2.99!

Moving Forward After America's 2024 Election: An Open Letter for Unity and Healing

Dear Fellow Americans, Regardless of Party,

Once again, the campaigns have ended, the doors have closed on rally venues across the nation, and an election has come and gone. While many are celebrating what they see as a win for the country and our people, others are suffering crippling fear and gut-wrenching grief. Both of these things are acceptable regardless of which side we're on, and there are people on both sides who feel both extremes. What should not be acceptable in this nation at any time, for any reason, is the militant vitriol dividing our social feeds, our workplaces, our households, our churches, our schools. I ask you, from one American to another: Is this how we want the world to see us? Is this how we want to move forward?

This election season, like so many before it, has brought the deepest of our most passionate values and beliefs to the surface. But no matter what color we vote, we are all a part of this nation; like it or not, we're in this together. The biggest thing it seems so many Americans have forgotten these days is that no matter what color you vote, no matter what color you are, regardless of your religious creed or sexual/gender identity, you are still - and should always be treated as - an important and valued part of the US. Because it isn't about me vs. you...it's about US. And every part of US has a valid and worthy input. If we choose to be US, then there is no THEM.

This is why we vote, why we count ballots. It's why every year, like it or not, someone wins. And it's why it's up to us to make the best of it, because we can choose to care for each other in our communities regardless of who lives in the White House. Every day, regardless of politics, we are the USA - and Kamala was right when she said, "We have more in common than what separates us."

We owe it to each other, to this nation of people, to the coming generations, and to the world for which we are so often the example of leadership, to stand together. But please understand: standing together doesn't mean we have to agree on everything. It means we recognize, one human to another, that each person in this country has worth and dignity and value regardless of their views. It means looking for ways to support each other on both sides of the political line rather than tearing each other down. We must remember that true equality means no person is above any other person. White (or another other color) is not greater than black (or another other color), man is not greater than woman - and we will never see true equality until we embrace this.

No one wins friends with hatred - on either side. And so, we must let go of our instinct to villainize, dehumanize, and infantilize the people we don't agree with. We must remember the individual power we hold in our daily lives, no matter who wins or loses this or any election. Politicians may center in the headlines, but they're not standing beside us at the grocery store, the school, or the church. They're not with us in line at Walmart, and they're not following us on TikTok. There's only so much we can blame on them, regardless of party or policies or voting history or speeches.

A united America starts with us now, just as it started with us in the beginning.

Donald Trump once said, "Together, we will make America great again." Some people embrace this statement and others recoil from it, but at face value, at its heart is the idea of togetherness and community. Together, we can help one another. We can embrace our diversity of thought and experience. With empathy and compassion on both sides, for both sides, we can choose to live up to the principles this nation was founded on. And if we cared for each other as individuals rather than political parties, we would have less to fear from a government on either side - because we would be stronger as a people.

Maybe that's idealistic. I'm a novelist, a dreamer; I always have been. But maybe it's just that we seem to have lost our ability to respectfully disagree without tearing each other apart. We're all so quick to comment, so quick to criticize. We're screaming to be heard, without ever stopping to truly listen. But our votes are private for exactly this reason - to allow each person to vote according to their conscience without consequence or fear of repercussion. This current overflow of divisive animosity is hurting us all as a nation, and we all owe each other the respect to educate ourselves, choose for ourselves, and hush up about it; more than two hundred years of soldiers have fought and died for our freedom to choose, and we owe them (and each other) the grace to keep some things private.

I know that sometimes it's unavoidable. Sometimes we want to educate people, or share why we feel the way we do, but we must do this mindfully. It's entirely possible to disagree without dehumanizing, to discuss without belittling, but we must remember how to listen for understanding, rather than just to respond and make a point. We must remember that it is okay to have differences, that our fellow Americans, regardless of party choice, are not our enemies.

So, as we enter the next chapter in our country's long and nuanced story, let me encourage you to look inward, as I will be looking inward. Let's choose to show up for each other, rather than showing off for each other. Let us be a nation of kindness, compassion, and peace. Let us be willing to listen, to remember our common ground.

Because the simple truth is this: If you don't want division, don't divide. You don't want want hate? Don't hate. If you don't want exclusion, be inclusive to all people, even those who are not like you.

In this time, as our country navigates a difficult chapter with high emotions everywhere, let us be the ones who heal each other rather than hurting each other. Let us remember that across party lines, we are all still here, side by side, sharing this incredible, beautiful land - and yearning for the same peace.

Besides, my grandma always said you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

Sincerely,

Your Fellow American, Who Prays You...

Behind The Curtain: Staying Strong When Life Gets Hard

Lately, my life has been full of ups and downs. I finally finished chapter seventeen in STILL FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM, and I had an incredible time at my church's annual youth conference. But no one stays on the mountaintop long; with everything I'm juggling and a new financial scare landing in my mailbox, I'm struggling to stay grounded in my usual positivity.

I tend to roll through things quietly, partly because I’m always moving from one thing to the next, and partly because I don’t allow myself much space for public vulnerability. The internet is a fragile place; one moment you’re everyone’s sweetheart and the next, you’re on the wrong side of a candy corn debate. So I keep my current personal life private, which can make me seem stronger than I feel. People see me as a woman of strong faith, largely healed from deep, long-term trauma, so they assume I just go from step to step without missing a beat, unshaken. The reality is so much more complex.

Like the Wizard of Oz on the big screen, I take the steps, do the things, trust in my faith and my coping skills...but behind that curtain? I’m a disabled single mom trying to figure things out, a real person with fears and vulnerabilities just like anyone. So today I’m inviting you, like Dorothy, to peek behind the curtain.

This weekend's conference focused on encouraging the youth in my church to discover their God-given purpose, starting with Moses at the burning bush. In Exodus 3, God called Moses to lead the Israelites out of slavery—a daunting task for a man who felt unworthy and unqualified. Purpose doesn’t always feel straightforward though, so we moved into Exodus 14, where Moses and the Israelites were trapped between Pharaoh’s army and the Red Sea, scared and unable to escape. The people lashed out in fear, but Moses reassured them, saying, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” That verse has carried meaning and a promise for me for over twenty years; I first read it as a young, terrified new mom, facing violent threats from my then-husband and fighting for a better life for my daughter. Decades later, it remains a powerful reminder of God’s protection and provision. I came home from that conference filled with hope, only to be hit with discouraging news—a letter about a financial issue that could be disastrous for my household. I know it'll get settled, but right now it's scary; I balance so many responsibilities on my own, and this felt like an unnecessary blow.

I usually hate when people say they're "triggered," but right now, I am. Stress levels skyrocketed, PTSD went haywire, and I'm wondering how I'll get through the month without the support I rely on to keep my home running. It sent me back to the pre-healed days, where fear was a constant companion. I've been post-traumatic as long as I can remember (my earliest memories are dissociated) and because of my mother, financial insecurity is always a quick "trigger" for me. I'm careful and generally responsible with money, but as a disabled person, I can’t just pick up extra work to cover gaps, and SSI limits what I’m allowed to save (when I have enough to save), which adds to the frustration. Financial security is one of the few things that really shakes me, and I’ve been through these feelings before. They usually pass...but they never get easier.

When life hits like this, I lean on faith and practicality to keep moving. Faith is my anchor—when I’m anxious, I pray, trusting God to make a way even if I can’t see it yet. I listen to worship music that reminds me of who He is, what He's promised for my life, and that I’m not as alone as I sometimes feel. Faith over fear is more than just a pretty phrase.

I also live by the concept of "the next right step." Days like today, I focus on what I can handle right now, even if that means waiting for tomorrow to tackle something I can’t solve today. This mindset drives the routines that keep me balanced; anxiety makes me forgetful, so updating my task list and staying organized are part of my survival kit, along with taking my medication, planning my day, and prioritizing rest. Another thing that helps is giving myself grace. I want to be the steady one who has it all together, but strength doesn’t mean being unaffected—it means being facing uncertainty with faith and practicality even when it’s hard. Feeling my emotions instead of brushing them off helps too, because while it isn’t easy to open up about these kinds of struggles, vulnerability has a way of connecting us.

I'm choosing to share this, not because I have all the answers, but because I know there are others who feel the same way I do and need to know they’re not alone. We're all just people “behind the curtain,” and I hope my journey reminds you that strength isn’t about never struggling; it’s about choosing to keep going. So, if you’re in a season that feels uncertain, know that you’re not alone. No matter how “strong” someone looks on the outside, we’re all doing our best to take each right step as it comes.

There’s power in not giving up. So I’m here, pulling back the curtain to remind you that real strength isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about the courage to keep moving forward, and the will to...

Gleaning Hope: From Struggle to Strength

The quote in the above image is more than a sneak peek at my newest book release, more than a little blurb from FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM (which, by the way, is now available for preorder!). It's more than a dash of comedy tucked into a life lesson. It's a tidbit of wisdom I found in hard times - and the one good thing that comes from hard times is the knowledge you can share with others who haven't made it out yet.

One of my favorite Bible stories is the book of Ruth; not because Ruth got herself a spectacular man in the end (she did, though), but because of what she had to go through in order to find herself in his presence. She was a foreigner in a smallish community, there by the power of loyalty and devotion despite fear and displacement and the looming threat of abject poverty. She spent her time gleaning leftover grains of barley and wheat to survive and to take care of her widowed mother-in-law, though she was widowed too. Probably lonely. Probably hot and dusty. Probably mourning the life she'd thought she would have.

I've never been in exactly the same situations, but I've been close enough. I've had to glean figurative grain from days that felt like desolate fields, with very little hope, holding onto anything I could find. Survival mode is real, y'all.

For anyone rolling their eyes at the Bible reference, let me try another way. There's a meme I see now and then, circulating on social media. It's an image of a hand, reddened and swollen, clearly straining as the mind controlling that hand holds desperately to something painful in order to avoid emptiness. The meme varies sometimes, but the hand is usually wrapped in ropes, coarse and fibrous and too tight. Below that is a contrast image; the hand now empty and finally healing, free from the strain of holding on too hard for too long.

We've all done it. Held on too tight to a rope that was sapping our strength, stealing our energy, choking the joy of life from our moments little by little.

The rope is a one-sided friendship. A job we actively despise. A habit or mindset we know isn't serving us. Sometimes it's a parent who's never going to understand you. A child you have to let go of, so they can learn the hard way what you so wanted to teach them gently. A community group that fits about as comfortably as a pair of too small underwear.

For many women (and yes, many men), it's a marriage or romantic partnership gone sour. Sometimes we try so hard, hold on so hard...because we hope this next effort will do it. Will make them see. And understand. We give all of what we have to "make it work," and when that doesn't do it, we dig deeper, give more. We don't even realize it's a rope around our throats.

Let me tell you, there is freedom in letting go of what can't or doesn't or won't serve the good in your life. It may feel like soul-deep rope-burn in the moment, but there is such power in opening your hands and watching that hopeless situation slide through your fingers. Does it feel that way immediately? Strong and empowered? Not usually. But in the healing, you realize you now have space and time and energy to reach for good things.

It is in the midst of one such letting-go moment in FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM that Peyton Porter says, "You have to empty a box of crap before you can put something worth keeping in it."

Life will always be full of challenges, but as you navigate whatever is challenging you today, please remember that letting go isn’t a sign of weakness. It takes courage to stop holding onto a losing battle and reach for healing instead. Just like Ruth gleaned what she could to survive in the Bible and Christine had to seek safety and growth at the Safe House, we can find strength in our struggles and hope in letting go.

I don't know if your imaginary box of crap is holding a toxic relationship or a collection of harmful habits, but I do know that when you pour it out, you’ll find room for something beautiful to take root.

I’ve poured my heart into the second edition expansion of FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM, and while we're still twenty-seven weeks away from the official release, I'd like to invite you to go ahead and preorder the book. I have always wanted this story to reflect a domestic abuse survivor's journey in a powerful and inspiring way, so if you choose to pick it up, I hope it serves you in growth and healing as much as I hope it entertains.

I'm three quarters of the way through the sequel, STILL FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM, and as I write the rest of the story, please know how grateful I am for all of your support. Every word you read here is a part of my own healing, every comment or share here or on social media is an encouragement that keeps the stories coming, and every member of the Undaunted Army plays a part in my effort to...

An A-List Dinner Party: My Top Picks for Conversation and Wisdom

I love conversation starters almost as much as I love inspirational quotes; they're deceptively simple, easy to overlook or brush away, and yet...there's a wealth of value under the surface. In terms of journaling or inner self-exploration, conversation starters open new doors to understanding who you are and why. When used in conversation as intended (assuming there is adequate effort employed), simple ice-breakers are a fascinating way to foster connection, glean wisdom, and find healing.

For example, I was absolutely delighted to overhear this forgotten gem at my church's women's conference this weekend:

• "Imagine you're hosting a dinner party. You are only allowed to have five guests - but they can be any person, alive or dead, from any period of time. Who would you invite, and why?"

It got me thinking. I've been struggling quite a bit lately with motivation and self-doubt; I have complex PTSD, and while 2024 has been a fabulous year of growth and inspiration, I've pushed myself hard, and I was overdue for a period of emotional fatigue and physical burnout. The conference made it obvious that the time is now, so after the conference ended, I took yesterday afternoon to rest not only my body, but also my over-worked spirit, and just let my mind wander. (I had accidentally eaten something allergen-contaminated, and several Benadryl tablets may have played a part in this next bit.)

What if I were able to host that kind of dinner party? Who would I invite? Perhaps more importantly, what am I hungry for right now, in terms of conversational input and the kind of soul food you only get from deep and intimate conversation with like-minded company?

So, in keeping with my taking space to rest and recharge, I'm skipping my weekly Ta-Da list in favor of sharing my guest list:

Now, onto the writing update. Honestly, this wasn't my most productive week. Between a series of doctor’s appointments, a minor emergency at my daughter’s school, and preparations for the women’s conference at our church this past weekend, I’ve barely had time to think, let alone sit down and write.

I know these things are part of life, and nothing goes smoothly all the time. But as a writer who loves almost nothing more than those moments of blissful creativity...I'm so frustrated I could scream.

I keep telling myself to be graceful, to be patient. That it’s okay. That some weeks are slower than others, and that life happens. Instead of beating myself up over it, I’m trying to embrace the idea that downtime is a necessary part of the process. Rest is just as important as productivity, and the value of what we offer the world is directly related to how healthy we are when we offer it.

So, while the words didn’t flow this week, I’m okay with that. I’m using the time to recharge, letting inspiration brew and bubble up, and reminding myself that creative energy is like the tide - if it goes out, it'll come back in. While I'm waiting I'm gonna take my medicine, get some rest, firm up my boundaries, and try to...

The Revolutionary Self-Love of Seeing My Parents As People, Not Perpetrators

I saw a Facebook post about the need to forgive parents for the traumas they caused their children. It hit me hard, both as an adult from a traumatic childhood and as a mother who could never imagine raising children the way my parents raised me. It has lingered in the back of my mind; so, since the topic hit me like a ton of bricks when I saw it, I wanted to preserve it here, with a snippet of my own journey through healing parental trauma.

Learning to see my parents as people—allowing them to transition from partial perpetrators of my trauma to traumatized people in their own right—was a long, difficult process. Each new revelation of my childhood held me down and shoved me backward even as character development and maturity adjusted my outlook, allowing me to keep going.

My parents were truly horrible; they were neglectful, dishonest, resentful, emotionally unavailable. They divorced, then married partners who were violent and mentally unstable. Instead of protecting me (and my siblings), they allowed us to see and experience things no child ever should. They put themselves first in everything, even when they could’ve done better.

For years, I thought it was just me, just a grown kid seeing things through a self-centered, perhaps naive lens. But then I found myself sitting in trauma therapy, recounting my story. I’ll never forget the expression on my therapist's face; she sat back in her chair, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. All she could say was, “Oh, wow.” She was a trauma specialist. And I had enough to surprise her. To be honest, that surprised me.

But being heard changed everything. It wasn’t just validation; it was the beginning of letting go of anger and emotional pain. It was a step toward healing I didn't even hope was possible anymore, and in that healing, I found grace to look at my parents in new ways. Not just parent to child, but human to human, and the more I learned about where they came from and explored the traumas they experienced, the more I felt sorry for them. They didn’t have it as bad as I did, but they had their own pain—and they lived in a different time, one with very little space for healing or acceptance of the search for mental wellness.

They never had the tools to break free of those emotional chains, or the capacity to see how their pain poured over my brothers and I like poison. Understanding didn’t erase what they did, but it gave me compassion—not just for them, but for myself. That wild anger? That bitter, clinging resentment? Symptoms of a trauma cycle that began long before my brothers and I were born. And I decided it would stop with me.

As a mother, this has a much deeper meaning; every moment of my life, I'm stretching against the internal pressure, armored up and fighting to give my children a better life than I had. One where we talk openly about trauma and mental wellness, not because it's some badge of honor, but because you can't clean up a mess in the dark. I want my daughters to feel safe, seen, and supported. To know they're not alone in their struggles. I want to protect them from the things I experienced, and I want them to understand that it's okay to be vulnerable, because healing starts with acknowledgment.

I won’t pretend I’ve always succeeded. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve had moments where my past crept into my parenting. But I’ve been honest with my daughters about my challenges; I’ve shared my story, not to seek pity or attention but to plant the seeds of a better cycle, where emotional wellness and understanding take precedence over silence and shame.

It's more than forgiving my parents for the mess they made of my past. It’s taking responsibility for my present, and being intentional about how I shape the future for my children. It’s about breaking the cycle of trauma and creating a new legacy—one where love, compassion, and openness are the foundation. The cycle stops here. Not just for me, but for the next generation.

This week was a bit of a draw on the writing front. I hate that I didn't finish SFFF Chapter 17, but I loved playing around with a transcript for the upcoming trial in the final chapters of this novel. Given my personal background, I'm sure it's no surprise that my favorite go-to binge-watch is Law& Order: SVU, but watching TV (or reading fiction) is only the upper crust of what really goes down in a courtroom.

Part of why I didn't hit my writing goal this week (finishing that chapter) is that I spent some time digging into the real-life laws that govern cases like the one portrayed in the Freedom Series, which helped me dig deeper into Christine's mind and heart. I feel more ready to tackle the weight of writing this portion of the story now, armed with realism and the emotional depth Christine deserves. I'm so ready to see this in reader's hands!

In the meantime, we're twenty-nine weeks away from the release of the second-edition FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM! I hope to have everything set up for pre-orders by the end of this month, I'm brainstorming ideas for a release-day event, and if I ever find a spare moment, I'd love to design some merch. If I can get it all done, what would y'all like to see?

Feel free to drop your suggestions in the comments, and until next week's update...

Beautiful Uncertainty: Finding Strength in the Unknown

Y'all, this week was rough. I was on the third (or fourth?) straight week of SFFF Chapter 16, and beginning to feel the pressure of the schedule I've set for myself. The thing is, the schedule isn't the problem; it's perfectly doable, even for a single mom with complex PTSD. The real problem is that sometimes, pesky life stuff just gets in the way, and I get overwhelmed just like anybody else.

So I had to tweak it a little. I spent more time resting when I needed to. It's important to me to show up as a writer, because dreams don't chase themselves...but it's also important to me to show up as a mom, as a Christian, and as my own best friend. When I "should have" been writing or "could have" been cleaning the house, instead I made a point not to kick myself while I binge-watched Law & Order: SVU. Even on the hardest days, I have tons to be grateful for, and minding my perspective made a huge difference toward keeping that time restful and refreshing.

And hey, I guess it paid off, because a load of great things happened this week:

I'm proud to say I've finally finished SFFF Chapter 16, which means we're only six chapters away from the end of STILL FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM! Those first fifteen chapters have been through the first round of proofing and editing, and they're currently gathered together in the main novel file, awaiting completion of the book - after which, we begin the next round of edits. Crazy bit of random trivia? That file is weighing it at just under ninety-four thousand words!

We're thirty weeks away from the release of the second edition FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM, and I'm planning to spend part of the coming week ironing out some kinks in the pre-order process. In the meantime, feel free to check out (and maybe share?) this TikTok, which includes the gorgeous FFF book cover and a little write-up of what new readers can expect from this first part of Christine's journey as she learns to...