Oh no, love, you’re not alone.

This year has been so overwhelming and it’s only March. 😵 I’m caught between wanting to know what’s going on and feeling depressed and helpless when I do read about things.

A sense of unreality settles in at times. How can any of this be real? How/Why are we letting it happen?

I wrote on my various social media pages on Monday morning: I will try to enjoy each day in some way. Sort of an “it’s the little things” mantra, but we all need the little things right now, don’t we?

I keep thinking about the next time we go to Disney and our next trips this year (yes, in that order. I love Disney parks.) Having things to look forward to keeps me going. Right now, they’re just dreams, though. But it’s good to have dreams.

When I started planning my latest novel, I considered my options for writing it each day and not feeling so burdened by word count goals. I read that successful authors like Graham Greene and Ernest Hemingway wrote five hundred words a day. I’ve been following their lead and, so far, it’s going well. I like that I can feel a bit more immersed in the scenes I’m working on instead of being so hung up on the idea of quotas and “gotta finish this chapter in one sitting.” I can sit with things a little longer, which allows both myself and my story to breathe.

My new novel involves time travel, confronting past selves, and accidentally falling in love along the way. If you like Sophie Cousens, you will like it. That’s my goal, anyway. It’s currently sitting pretty at 3,000 words. 😅

Enjoy each day in some way, my friends. Take care of yourselves.