Guy never stops trying… to fix things, to rally people, to make it all work (somehow). He’s a tangle of good intentions with a coffee in one hand and a plan that’s already falling apart in the other. And he means every word.

At the center of this story is Paige: a little lost, a little fierce, and impossible not to root for. She keeps moving to outrun the things that hurt, but somehow the unexpected—and connection—find her anyway. If you’re the kind of reader who loves characters who feel real, messy, and full of heart, you’ll want to meet her.

Several years ago, my husband and I decided on a whim to visit the Unitarian Universalist church in our town. We didn’t know what to expect. Inside, a man looked up and asked, “Are you here for directions?”

What we found was a small, big-hearted group full of kindness, quirks, and an eagerness to help. On the way home, I told my husband, “There could be a TV show about that group. And I’d watch it.”

The world has felt impossibly heavy lately. My stomach’s been in knots. But even with that weight, there are lunches to make, sprinklers to run through, and stories to tell. The guilt of holding joy while others suffer is real. It’s also part of why I started writing again. Not to ignore the hard things, but to make space for what’s still good. In this post, I’m reflecting on what it means to parent, feel deeply, and keep creating in a world that’s on fire.

I truly believe that what we read steers what we write. Some books become blueprints, others become whispers, and then there are those rare ones that crack something open.
As I write Thirteen Weeks in Digby, I keep returning to the stories that shaped its voice, heart, and humor.