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Every writer has that moment — you know the one — where you sit down, open your laptop with righteous determination, and immediately lose a staring contest with your own blinking cursor.

One day, you’re a creative demigod channeling brilliance like your brain made a deal with the universe.

The next, you’re googling “Can you get a refund on adulthood?” instead of writing a sentence.

Good news: you’re not inconsistent.

You’re not undisciplined.

And you’re definitely not spiraling (okay, maybe a...

A psychothriller writer’s descent into delightful madness.

Day 1: I Signed Up for This Chaos Voluntarily

NaNoWriMo has begun, which means I have officially re-entered my annual tradition of making November my problem. (I"m technically following NovNov with ProWriting Aid, but who is keeping track?)

I opened my laptop at 6:03 a.m., all bright-eyed and optimistic, like a golden retriever about to learn what thunder is.

The plan: write a crisp, focused psychological thriller.

The reality: I spent 20...

If you’re reading this a year from now, congratulations—you made it past the mess that was me.

I’m writing to you in fog. The kind that clings to the glass and blurs the world just enough to make everything seem softer, almost merciful. There’s a cup of coffee beside me going cold (of course there is), a candle that keeps guttering, and that same half-hearted playlist looping in the background.

I’m not sure what we expect you to find here—warnings, maybe. Wishes. Proof that I tried. These...

This was the year that tried to swallow me whole.

Deadlines with teeth. Expectations with claws. Coffee cups multiplying like gremlins on my desk. Somewhere around March, I realized I was no longer living the year—I was being consumed by it, one anxious bite at a time.

Every time I thought I’d found my footing, the ground politely turned to quicksand. The calendar flipped faster than I could cross things off. My inbox started breeding like rabbits. And still I kept saying yes—yes to new...

(As told by someone who’s already warded the doors… twice)

When the wind turns sharp and the world smells faintly of apples, smoke, and something older than both… you’ll know Samhain has arrived.

Forget the commercial Halloween gloss. Samhain (pronounced SOW-in) is the ancient Celtic New Year—the threshold where one season dies, another stirs, and everything that lingers between gets a say.

For those of us born with old magic in our blood, it’s not just a holiday. It’s a reckoning.

A time of...

Halloween isn’t about pretending to be someone else.

It’s about finally being allowed to try.

Once a year, the world gives us permission to experiment—to wear the crown, the claws, the cape, or the chaos—and nobody asks for an explanation. Maybe that’s why I’ve always loved this season: it’s the one night we can step into a story without apology.

The Art of Becoming Someone Else

Long before we turned October into a carnival of candy and costumes, the ancient Celts wore disguises at Samhain to...

The Manor on a Moonlit October Night

You know you’re in for a strange Halloween when your “Party Planning Committee” includes a Victorian ghost who quotes Poe, a sarcastic paranormal blogger, a snack engineer perpetually at war with ghostly sock thieves, a gothic séance aficionado, and a resident prankster who’s mostly transparent—literally and figuratively.

It’s Maggie’s idea, obviously. Content is king and nothing says “viral blog post” like staging the ultimate haunted house party at...

Writers love to pretend October is a calm, aesthetic month—

all flickering candles, pumpkin spice, and productive creativity under amber light.

But let’s be honest.

October isn’t calm.

It’s beautiful chaos wrapped in a flannel scarf.

The Season of Pumpkin-Spiced Panic

There’s something about that first crisp breeze that makes every writer say,

“This is the month I finally finish my draft.”

Cut to two weeks later, and we’re surrounded by fall-scented candles, half-empty caramel coffee mugs, and...

Before plastic pumpkins and fun-sized candy bars, Halloween was less about sugar rushes and more about surviving the night when the veil thinned. The old Celts didn’t throw costume parties for fun—they dressed to confuse spirits that roamed the countryside. Every modern decoration, ritual, and sugar-coated indulgence has roots sunk deep into the dark soil of folklore. Let’s lift the mask and peer at where these traditions really come from.

Jack-o’-Lanterns: The Face of Fear

Long before pumpkins...

Today, Halloween means candy corn, dollar-store cobwebs, and costumes ranging from terrifying to “why is that vampire wearing Crocs?” But before plastic skeletons hit the shelves of every big-box store, there was Samhain—the ancient Celtic festival that marked the end of harvest and the beginning of the dark half of the year.

And trust me, the Celts didn’t play around with their spooky season.

Samhain was more than bonfires and disguises; it was a sacred threshold. A time when the veil between...

Some people pack holy water, silver bullets, or sage bundles when heading into a haunted house. Maggie Hawkins, heroine of The Haunting of Crumbleton Manor, packs something far more dangerous: sarcasm. While most ghost hunters would be fumbling with salt circles, Maggie is rolling her eyes and muttering snark under her breath—and somehow, it works.

At first glance, this looks like pure comedy. After all, who fights a centuries-old wraith with a wisecrack about modern technology? But humor has...

Not all houses come with good insulation. Some come with ghosts.

Forget granite countertops and energy-efficient windows—if you really want a property with character, you’ll need rattling chains, whispering corridors, and a portrait whose eyes definitely moved when you weren’t looking. Haunted houses have been captivating (and terrifying) people for centuries. They appear in folklore, fiction, and, if you’re Maggie Hawkins in The Haunting of Crumbleton Manor, they also come with sarcastic...

Ghosts are the worst at social etiquette. They never RSVP, show up late, and if they do bring snacks, it’s usually something cursed from 1692. In my latest short story, The Haunting of Crumbleton Manor, Maggie Hawkins discovers this first-hand when Lady Eleanor and Barnabas (resident freeloaders of the spectral variety) decide to crash her Halloween special. Between Barnabas’s sarcasm and Lady Eleanor’s flair for monologues, Maggie quickly learns that forgotten spirits rarely knock before...

Fantasy. The word alone conjures images of dragons, glowing swords, and possibly a very tired girl with a Chosen One complex. But fantasy isn’t just one big bubbling cauldron of magic and medieval cosplay—it’s a sprawling kingdom with many, many districts, each more enchantingly chaotic than the last.

Some are all ancient prophecy and dramatic cloaks. Others involve cursed coffee shops, murder horses, or enchanted goats who judge your life choices. Fantasy is a genre with range.

And yet, when...

If you had to strike a magical bargain with one water-dwelling creature, who’s your best bet? A fish-tailed flirt with a song for every emotion? A shape-shifting seal who leaves emotional wreckage like seaweed on the tide? Or a sleek horse with murder in its eyes and a loyalty problem?

Today, we're diving deep (possibly too deep) into the folklore swirl of mermaids, selkies, and kelpies—three aquatic beings who’ve haunted coastal legends, shipwrecked stories, and probably a few regrettable...

Everyone knows Scotland is famous for whisky, bagpipes, and an aggressively high number of haunted castles. But here’s the secret no one warns you about: the Scots also turned counting into something downright mystical. Forget numerology apps and “life path numbers.” In Highland and Lowland lore, numbers weren’t just arithmetic—they were magic in their own right. Three, seven, and nine weren’t casual choices. They were the numbers you reached for if you wanted to keep the fairies out of your...

From the world of The Bet in Nocturne Alley (now available)

Foggy Nocturne Alley doesn’t keep secrets well—too many alleyways, too many whispering windows, too many spells drifting through the smoke. But there’s one place where even ghosts learn to hold their tongues. A bar where the candles remember, and the woman who tends them remembers more.

Her name is Amara Nocturne.

She is not what you expect, and never what she was. Once a feared and formidable witch, Amara now walks the line between...

From the Enchanted Heritage series by Lisa A. Moore

(Whispers of the Selkie – out now | Song of the Drowned – coming late 2025)

When people ask about Morwenna Brightwood, they usually mention the ocean. The curse. The magic. The bloodlines.

But before she was all of those things, she was someone’s little sister.

That someone is Ava Brightwood—a tall, sharp-eyed boutique owner with a tactical mind and the unwavering posture of a woman who does not wait to be rescued. If Morwenna is the storm, Ava...

(As told by someone who’s ankle-deep in both folklore and grain offerings)

You know it’s Lughnasadh when the bread gets suspiciously symbolic, the fields hum with stories, and something in the wind starts whispering, “Everything comes with a price.”

Welcome to Lughnasadh (also known as Lammas), the Celtic festival of first harvest, sacred labor, and complicated feelings about baked goods. It’s a time when the sun still rules the sky, but you can feel the shadows starting to grow longer at the...

The other day, I caught myself staring at my to-do list like it had personally wronged me. My inbox was a swamp, my writing goals were gathering dust, and my tea had gone cold—again. Somewhere between “respond to emails” and “rework the sea monster subplot,” a weird question bubbled up:

How would someone like Athena handle this kind of chaos?

In my defense, that might’ve had something to do with the fact that I’d been playing Assassin’s Creed Odyssey with my husband during writing breaks. When...