Welcome, October! We hope you won’t batter us too viciously. (Hey, one can always hope.) Once again, it’s time for the monthly blog hop on the Insecure Writers Support Group. IWSG offers a plethora of writing resources as well as a safe place to connect and vent. And Lord knows we have lots to vent these days.

The awesome co-hosts for the October 7 posting of the IWSG are Jemima Pett, Beth Camp, Beverly Stowe McClure, and Gwen Gardner! Be sure to check out their writerly wisdom.

October 7 question – When you think of the term working writer, what does that look like to you? What do you think it is supposed to look like? Do you see yourself as a working writer or aspiring or hobbyist, and if latter two, what does that look like?

Working writer? That’s me. After a 27-year career teaching high school, I was able to take early retirement and work full-time on my writing. Yes, I’m very fortunate—and I worked damned hard to get here. After five pedal-to-the-metal years, I now have five published books—a trifling sum compared to my role models, but steady progress nonetheless.

I can honestly say that this is the first job I’ve loved from top to bottom and inside-out, even while grumbling about fiddly chores like formatting a print manuscript—spent most of last week pushing that boulder uphill, only to have Ingram Spark send it tumbling back down. I’m a student in the school of trial and error, for sure. May the gods bless helpful authors who answer newbie questions and all the angels who post how-to videos on YouTube.

A typical day in the writing phase: Up when I damn well feel like it—usually 7-ish. Coffee, email, social media until the go-juice kicks in and I switch to my WIP. Work until early afternoon, then exercise break, then afternoon shower—which feels transgressive after all those years of pre-dawn grooming for work—then writing-adjacent chores until it’s time to fix dinner. I don’t take weekends off but will knock off early if we have plans. (Remember plans? I miss them.)

A typical day in the book-release phase: Same as above, but extra coffee, plus the satisfaction of crumpling up sticky notes as I accomplish each pre-pub/promo chore.

Nowadays, the life of a working writer looks very much like the life of any work-at-home person: shabby, comfy clothes, home office, too much time on social media. But I love it—as much as anyone can love their work in the age of doom scrolling. Writing is my comfort zone, and I’m so glad to spend all day here.

P.S. If you plan to upload a print book to Ingram Spark, may I suggest the free Book Editor tool on Reedsy? Easy-peasy manuscript formatter, and compatible with IS’s rules. Just set up a free Reedsy account and start formatting.

P.P.S. Check out my newest release, Christmas Rekindled, available from your favorite online bookseller!

 Bartender River Lundqvist has a damn good reason for hating Christmas. Bangers Tavern is the perfect place to lay low over the holidays—until Charlie walks in. His first encounter with the saucy server nine years ago was utter humiliation. Her reappearance stirs up powerful desires and hopes for a new start. But the timing is all wrong.

Back in Tacoma to care for her estranged dad over the holidays, freelance web designer Charlie Khoury braces herself for the suckiest Christmas ever. A temporary job at Bangers Tavern gives her a chance to escape Dad’s criticism and blow off some steam. But why does the hunky bartender seem to hate her?    

A pretend girlfriend is just what River needs to keep his family off his back—until a kiss under the mistletoe flares hot enough to melt the North Pole. When greedy developers threaten Bangers Tavern, River and Charlie must team up to save it. Their sizzling chemistry feels like the real thing—but everyone knows rebound relationships don’t last.

Come to Bangers Tavern for an enemies-to-lovers tale of reconciliation, found family, holiday cocktails, and the steamiest Christmas miracle ever. Get your copy here.

Thanks for reading, and may you emerge from October with your sanity intact and lots of new words on the page. Or screen. Or your phone. Or the walls of your cell. Whatever–good luck!