Monthly Archives: May 2025

How to Conjure and Nurture an Enduring Writing Practice as a Neurodivergent

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Photo by Ivan Samkov: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-woman-taking-notes-4458554/

Writing is a kind of magic. And for those of us with neurodivergent minds—brilliant, nonlinear, wired for deep perception—the path to a lasting writing practice isn’t paved with rigid schedules or color-coded planners (unless, of course, we love those things). It’s built on ritual, rhythm, desire, and deep self-trust.

If you’ve struggled with consistency, battled internalized shame, or found that typical writing advice just doesn’t fit, this post is your encouragement to conjure a practice that honors the way you move through the world.

1. Craft Ritual, Not Routine

Routine can feel like a cage. But ritual? Ritual is sacred. Ritual is spellwork.

Instead of forcing yourself to write at 8 a.m. sharp each day, create a writing portal you want to step into. Light a candle. Burn a sprig of rosemary. Put on music that transports you. Sip something warm and grounding. Let these sensory cues open the door between your everyday mind and your storytelling self.

Your ritual might take five minutes or thirty. The point is to enchant the beginning, not white-knuckle your way into it.

2. Know Your Rhythms—and Honor Them

Neurodivergent brains often move in rhythms that defy the nine-to-five, hustle-culture model of productivity. You might have creative bursts at night, or hyperfocus windows that last hours—and then crash. This isn’t brokenness. It’s brilliance.

Track your natural creative cycles. When do ideas arrive easily? When does your brain feel foggy or shut down? Design your writing practice around these patterns, not someone else’s blueprint.

3. Let Desire Lead You

Discipline isn’t the only engine. In fact, it’s often the wrong one for neurodivergent creatives.

Desire, curiosity, fascination—these are far more sustainable fuels. What story won’t leave you alone? What character whispers in your ear while you’re trying to sleep? Follow that shimmer.

Write what you can’t not write. The practice will become self-sustaining.

4. Build a Gentle Container

You don’t have to go it alone. In fact, many neurodivergent writers thrive with compassionate accountability—whether through a writing buddy, a cozy online group, or a creative coach who understands your brain.

But let the container be soft. Flexible. Consent-based.

Instead of “I have to write 1,000 words every day,” try “I’ll check in with my creative self every day and ask what it needs.”

5. Make Room for the Ebbs

There will be times when your brain is foggy, your body is heavy, and writing feels impossibly far away. These moments aren’t failures. They’re part of the creative cycle.

Create a “low-spoons” version of your practice: rereading a scene, jotting down one sentence, doing research, even just thinking about your story while walking. That is writing. Trust that rest and slowness are fertile ground.

6. Celebrate Invisible Progress

Not all writing looks like pages produced.

Sometimes it looks like solving a plot problem in the shower. Or finding the perfect word days after you needed it. Or just sitting down and trying, even when it’s hard.

Neurodivergent brains do a lot of internal processing. Respect the unseen. Celebrate the almosts. You’re building something, even when it doesn’t look like progress.

7. Reclaim Writing as Spellwork

For many of us, writing is more than craft. It’s reclamation. Resistance. A way to speak after being silenced.

Your perspective—sensory, spiraling, richly detailed, intensely felt—is needed in the world. Write in the voice that is most you. Tell the stories only you can tell.

Let your writing practice become a ritual of return. A spell of becoming. A homecoming.

Final Thoughts

There’s no one right way to be a writer—especially not for neurodivergent folks. The key is to conjure a practice that honors your magic and nurture it with patience, joy, and love.

Because remember what I always say…
Honoring your impulse to write is an act of self-love.

You don’t have to write every day. You don’t have to write the “right” way. You only have to find what works for you—and then let it evolve as you do.

You’re not too much. You’re not not enough. You’re exactly the right kind of untamed magic.

Sending you mad writing mojo…

Happy writing!

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When the Land Chooses You: How Setting Shapes Story

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Image by SK_Zurcher from Pixabay

When it comes to writing fiction, we often talk about character, plot, or even theme as the building blocks of a story. But one of the most potent elements, sometimes overlooked or taken for granted, is setting.

Setting isn’t just a backdrop. It’s a container, a mirror, a source of conflict and transformation. Sometimes, you don’t choose a setting. It chooses you.

That’s what happened with Miranda’s Garden.

A Landscape That Lived in Me

I lived in Colorado for 16 years, and it will forever have my heart. The jagged majesty of the Rockies. The ever-present sunshine that lights up even the coldest days. The towering Douglas firs and whispering aspens. These weren’t just fond memories—they were emotional, spiritual truths. They became the soil from which Miranda’s story grew.

Nature is more than scenery in this novel. It’s a character. The forest around Miranda’s cabin is a place of solace, healing, and quiet power. The act of tending a mountain garden—difficult, unpredictable, and deeply rewarding—mirrors Miranda’s own inner work.

Nearby Locations With Symbolic Weight

Though the story is set primarily in the mountains, just outside a small mountain community, nearby places enrich the world:

Boulder – Just down the canyon from Miranda’s cabin, it offers glimpses of a busier life she’s left behind, and a future location for something new (stay tuned for the sequel!).

Denver – The bustle and complexity of city life contrast Miranda’s isolation and simplicity, and a way to put readers in the story who know the area well.

Tattered Cover Bookstore – A sacred space for book lovers (like Miranda and me), and a location where something magical happens.

Estes Park—A place for Miranda to delve even deeper into nature and meet a surprising group of hikers, who leave her with an important wish for herself.

Red Rocks Amphitheater – A place of transformation and magic in the story—and one of my favorite real-world locations.

Symbolism in the Land Itself

One reason I chose the Rockies for Miranda’s Garden is because the land itself tells a layered story.

The Rockies were formed over millions of years—from the Laramide Orogeny through the Ice Ages. That geological layering fascinated me—and it also reflected Miranda’s emotional complexity. She’s a woman of many layers, too. The setting became a symbol for that depth.

A Relationship That Continues

Setting isn’t static. It evolves in the writer’s relationship with it.

In the early stages of writing the first draft, I returned to Colorado to reconnect with the terrain. To walk the trails. To listen to the wind through the aspens. That trip reminded me of the textures and sounds I wanted to infuse into the story.

And I’ll return again—during a future book tour, and when I begin writing the sequel (which is already starting to take root in me).

Inherent Tension = Natural Metaphor

Gardening in the Rockies is no small feat. The soil is rocky. The growing season is short. Success takes specialized knowledge, persistence, and, sometimes, a bit of magic.

That natural tension makes it a perfect metaphor for Miranda’s inner life. Her transformation is slow, hard-won, and beautiful.

Questions for You

What places have you lived that became part of who you are?
What places do you most like to write about—and why?

The setting you choose (or that chooses you) might be more than just a place on the map. It might be the heart of your story.

Want more help writing setting? Check out my new digital flip book: What You Need to Know About Setting to Write Good Fiction