On Navigating Changes

This first appeared as the author’s note in The Glass Forest and Other Tales. Click to learn more.

The last twelve months have been… complicated, for lack of a better word.

We moved from one state to another, built a rescue sanctuary (well, we started the process but it’s a long one), lost Rowan, our 20-year-old cat (among other creatures), and helped my sister and nephew move in with us. I worked an honest-to-dog, real-life, grown-up job for about 9 months (it was terrible; do not recommend), and Josh lost his job and found another.

We’ve had bad weather and good weather, bad health and good health, bad animals and good animals. Turbulent might describe this period of our lives, especially looking out beyond our immediate situation and into the world at large.

Just the other day, I was at the SPCA meeting two Maine Coon brothers who were surrendered from a loving home due to extenuating circumstances. I petted them and listened to their deep purring as it rumbled loudly enough I could feel it in my own chest.

And in that moment, I realized I was having an existential crisis. Was I really considering adopting two adult male Maine Coon cats when I had eight of my own cats back home? Even though we had just lost Rowan, our beautiful 20-year-old Norwegian Forest Cat mix, did I really need two more cats to fill the hole in my heart?

No. Because truthfully, there is no other animal who will fill the hole left by Rowan. She was a beautiful, wonderful cat who lived with us through so many adventures. Our current cats will live with us through new adventures. And if, at some point, we do get new cats, they will live with us through future adventures.

I realized I didn’t need to bring home two more cats—especially not these two, who were adopted by someone else within minutes after I left.

I was just sad. What I needed was to give myself time to grieve.

None of these stories are about grief and loss, particularly. But what they are about is navigating change. Sometimes the change is of their own making, and sometimes it comes from the outside world. But in every case, they must bear the weight of adapting to those changes, grieve the loss of life before, and look forward to the adventures that come.

And it turns out, that is what I needed, too.

Time to grieve: not just the loss of Rowan and all our other beloved creatures that left our lives in the last year of rescuing (Tornado the cat, Gretel the goat, Goatotiller the goat, Roxy the foster dog, four foster kittens, several ducks and chickens), but also our life before. The life we left in Pennsylvania, and in Baltimore, and our childhoods.

Time to accept the changes we chose and the changes in the world around me we have no control over.

Time to envision a new future filled with love and sorrow, joy and pain, and the effort of building something new.

New Book: The Glass Forest and Other Tales

Over the last year, my life has changed in more ways than I can count. We’ve moved, built the beginnings of an animal rescue, said goodbye to beloved pets, and tried to make sense of a chaotic world. In that time, I found myself writing stories about change—about the moment after the world shifts, when you're left standing in the wreckage and asked to begin again.

And of course, I process change and challenge through writing.

My newest collection of original fairy tales, The Glass Forest and Other Tales, is rooted in the idea that philosophy doesn’t always offer answers, but it can help us hold space for many truths at once. And in a world that often demands certainty, sometimes the most radical act is choosing compassion.

This is the fourth volume in my ongoing series of original fairy tales—stories written not just to entertain, but to explore what it means to be human. Like its predecessors, this collection is filled with mystery, magic, and meaning. These are tales about identity and kindness, about grief and belonging, about change and the strange shapes it takes.

You’ll meet:

• A woman who trades her soul to save her sister—and centuries later, journeys to reclaim it.

• A solitary woman whose life changes when she encounters the rarest creature in a glass forest.

• A ghost who finds unexpected friendship with a bard and a dulcimer under the light of the moon.

• A farmer who finds a fae baby in her barn and must choose between fear and love.

• A village that places its hopes on a mechanical man powered by a real human heart.

Each story is steeped in classic fairy tale elements, but takes a step into new terrain—where folklore meets philosophy, and where every choice reveals a deeper question.

Whether you’re here for the magic, the meaning, or just a good story—thank you for being here. I hope these tales meet you wherever you are in your journey.

How To Survive the Apocalypse, Part 5: Skills to Learn Before the Apocalypse (Because Google Won’t Be There to Help You)

Picture this: society has collapsed. You’re standing in the ruins of a once-thriving supermarket, holding a can of beans you can’t open because you never learned how to do it without a can opener. Your phone battery died weeks ago. The last person who claimed to know "bushcraft" set himself on fire trying to start one.

The realization hits: you are wildly unprepared for this.

That’s the thing about survival—you don’t get to Google your way out of it. The internet won’t be there to tell you which mushrooms are edible or how to stop bleeding when you inevitably do something dumb with a knife.

So if you don’t want to be a tragic cautionary tale in someone else’s post-apocalyptic legend, now’s the time to start training. Here are the top survival skills to master before the world ends.

Because when the WiFi is gone, all you’ll have left is whatever’s in your brain—and hopefully, a better plan for opening that can of beans.

1. How To Start A Fire

Fire isn’t just about staying warm—it’s about staying alive. It purifies water, cooks food, wards off predators (both the four-legged and desperate-human kind), and keeps you from spiraling into existential despair when the world around you is nothing but darkness.

The problem? Fire isn’t as easy as movies make it look.

Here’s what you need to know:

• Master at least three fire-starting methods. Lighters and waterproof matches are great, but if you don’t have a ferro rod (or at least a magnifying glass to focus sunlight), you’re playing on easy mode with no backup plan.

• Find dry tinder, even in wet conditions. Look for dry inner bark, pine needles, or even carry cotton balls soaked in petroleum jelly. Better yet, collect it when you see it and keep it in a waterproof bag. Then you’ll have it available no matter the weather.

• Build a sustainable fire. A tiny flicker of flame is cute, but a long-burning coal bed is what keeps you warm all night. This is especially important if you’re staying in one place for a while. It’s easier to keep the fire going than to restart it..

🔥 Practice Now: Try making a fire in bad weather. If you can get a flame going in rain or wind, you’re apocalypse-ready. If not, congratulations! You have died of dysentry. Better luck next time.

2. Finding Water

You can last weeks without food, but without water? Three days. Maybe less if the apocalypse has you running from… things. Zombies. Dinosaurs. ICE.

The problem? Water that looks clean probably isn’t. Even that picturesque mountain stream is full of things that want to kill you (bacteria, parasites, maybe the ghosts of less-prepared survivors).

How to Not Die of Thirst:

• Find water sources. Moving water (rivers, streams) is better than stagnant pools. Rain collection is a solid backup.

• Filter first, purify second. A survival straw or filter is great, but boiling is your best bet if you don’t want to gamble with dysentery. (And let’s be honest, you don’t.)

• Learn natural water indicators. Tracks leading to water sources, morning dew collection, and plants like cattails can all point you in the right direction.

💧 Practice Now: Go on a hike and try finding, filtering, and purifying water. Bonus points if you do it without a store-bought filter. Extra bonus points if you don’t get sick afterward.

3. Basic First Aid

If you trip and bust your knee open in the pre-apocalypse world, you get stitches and a bill from the ER. In the post-apocalypse? You get an infection, a fever, and maybe a starring role in your group’s first funeral.

Honestly, basic first aid is great to know even pre-apocalypse. Check with your local police or fire department. Many of them offer first aid classes. And if they don’t, you can probably request it.

Survival First Aid Must-Knows:

• Stop bleeding, or stop living. Learn how to apply pressure, pack a wound, and use a tourniquet correctly (as in, not as the first option).

• Prevent infection. If you don’t have antibiotics, then honey, salt, and even some plant extracts can help. (Note: learn which plants before you start smearing random leaves on your wounds.)

• Recognize shock and dehydration. If someone’s confused, clammy, or staring blankly while you yell at them, they might be going into shock. Elevate their legs, keep them warm, and get them water if possible.

🚑 Practice Now: Take a basic first aid course. If that’s too much commitment, at least learn how to stop bleeding. You’ll thank yourself when you inevitably cut your finger on a can of apocalypse beans.

Survival Isn’t Just About Luck—It’s About Skill

When the world goes sideways, you don’t want to be the person standing in the rubble, wondering why no one ever taught you how to make a fire or find clean water. Survival isn’t about just luck (though that may play a role)—it’s about knowing what to do before things fall apart.

The good news? You still have time to learn.

The bad news? If you wait too long, you might be the reason someone else gets a crash course in makeshift funerals.

So start now. Light a fire in the rain. Purify some sketchy water. Learn how to patch yourself up without a pharmacy. Because when the WiFi is gone and the world is burning, the only thing keeping you alive… is you.

How To Survive the Apocalypse, Part 4: Shelter & Safe Zones

Look, when the apocalypse hits, you’re going to need a place to crash. And I don’t mean “find a cozy Airbnb in the wasteland” (though, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone still tried to charge a cleaning fee). No, you need a real shelter—somewhere to hunker down, store your supplies, and hopefully not get eaten by whatever new apex predator emerges.

But here’s the thing: you can’t just wing it. You don’t want to be the person wandering aimlessly through the ruins, muttering, Wow, I probably should have thought about this sooner.

So, let’s talk about safe zones and how to secure a decent shelter before the world goes sideways.

Step 1: Identify Potential Safe Zones

First things first: Where are you going when everything goes belly-up? Your options depend on what kind of apocalypse you’re dealing with, but let’s go over a few solid choices:

• Your Own Home – If your house is defensible, well-stocked, and not directly in the path of disaster, this might be your best bet. Reinforce doors and windows now. Maybe get to know your neighbors so you can form an impromptu defense squad. This is also likely the easiest solution.

• A Friend or Family Member’s House – Got a cousin with a fortified basement? A friend with a farm? Establish a “just in case” plan now so you’re not that person showing up unannounced with a bag of trail mix and regret. Make sure you have a way of getting to this person’s house as well, especially if they’re more than a short drive away.

• Public Buildings – Schools, libraries, fire stations—these often have emergency supplies, strong infrastructure, and (in the case of libraries) useful books to keep you from going insane. They even have nuclear shelters sometimes! Check out what’s in your area now, so you’ll have that information if… when?… you need it.

• Nature Retreats – If cities become dangerous, rural areas, cabins, or even caves could be viable. If you don’t already know how to live off the land, maybe start watching some survival YouTube videos now. Hot tip: don’t eat mushrooms.

Step 2: The “Bug In” vs. “Bug Out” Debate

Do you stay put or do you flee? The answer depends on the apocalypse. If it’s something slow-moving (economic collapse, supply chain failure, AI existential crisis), staying home and fortifying is likely your best bet. If it’s something fast (wildfires, zombies, alien invasion), you may need to get out fast.

Prepping for both options means:
✅ Having a go-bag – At least 72 hours of food, water, medicine, and a flashlight that isn’t dead.
✅ Knowing where you’ll go – Choose two or three safe zones in different directions. Roads will be blocked, and you may need alternatives. You may have to hoof it, so make sure you have a good pair of shoes.
✅ Planning for pets – Don’t leave them behind, but also don’t assume a feral cat will become your apocalypse survival partner either.

Step 3: Make Your Shelter Actually Livable

A shelter is useless if it’s unlivable. If you’re planning to stay in your home, make sure you:

• Stockpile water & non-perishable food. If supply chains break, you don’t want your last meal to be an expired granola bar.

• Insulate and fortify. Patch those weak points now before looters (or just bad weather) make them worse.

• Get backup power. A generator, solar panels, or at least a stockpile of batteries and candles will make life much, much easier. If you’re in the north, a non-electrical means of heat is probably a good plan too.

Step 4: The Ultimate Rule—Have a Backup Plan

No shelter is 100% secure. Always have an escape route, know multiple safe zones, and, most importantly, don’t wait until the world is already on fire to start thinking about this.

Because when the time comes, the last thing you want is to be sitting in your car, watching civilization burn, and realizing you have absolutely no idea where you’re going.

New Book: Market Like It's HOT

Skip the read, and click to grab the book here!

When I first started writing and publishing, I thought marketing would be simple. Write a good book, put it out there, and readers would find it.

It didn’t exactly work out that way.

An early attempt at book marketing with a grumpy cat meme

Marketing turned out to be messy, overwhelming, confusing—and full of trial and error.

Market Like It’s Hot is a collection of essays about that messy middle: learning how to market books in a way that feels sustainable, creative, and (sometimes) even fun. Many of these essays first appeared in my blog or newsletter, where I’ve shared honest reflections, practical advice, and hard-won lessons over the years.

I’ve also included some brand-new pieces written just for this collection.

At the heart of it all is my philosophy: there’s no single “right” way to market your work. Every author’s journey looks a little different, and the best strategies are the ones that fit your goals, your energy, and your life—not someone else’s blueprint.

Whether you’re a writer looking for encouragement and ideas, or a reader curious about the chaotic, behind-the-scenes world of publishing, I hope you’ll find something to enjoy (and maybe even be inspired by) in these pages.