Wild Thistle is the wild place within—where I write from. It’s about the roots, the ritual, the remembering.
I’ve been working on what I call a Lyrical Magical Fiction/Witchy novel for a stretch of time. It’s something I have wanted to do for decades. I was reluctant to give myself permission to switch genres and worked hard at keeping that part of myself silenced. I was/am a memoir and non-fiction writer that sometimes wrote poetry.
To my great surprise (and slight existential whiplash), I love creating characters and building witchy, enchanted worlds. It’s changed everything. I now write from the same intuitive space I enter when reading Tarot—a quiet place where I listen, wait, and follow the strange thread that shows up. With Tarot, I uncover the story inside the cards. With my novel, I uncover the story inside me.
My current work-in-progress is called Thistle Bay: Where the Cat Bones Sing. It’s got a magical house, a haunted orchard, and women who know their way around herbs, heartbreak, and hexes. Each morning, I show up curious to see what the characters are up to and whether they’ve gone and started a séance in the garden without telling me.
I’m enrolled in a summer long intensive fiction writing class and hope to have a strong 2nd draft completed by late August.
Switching genres has allowed me to braid together all the pieces of my life, writing, spirituality, witchcraft, intuition and spin them into story. It’s messy. It’s steeped in moonlight. And it feels like home.
This blog is my creative hearth. I’ll be sharing writing prompts, Tarot spreads, odd thoughts, character sketches, spell scraps, and whatever else tumbles out of my metaphorical cauldron. If you’re a writer, reader, a weaver, a seeker, or simply witch-curious, Welcome. I’m glad you found your way here.
I’d love to create community for myself and anyone that would like to hop on board. I’m imagining a Creative Coven of Writers and Readers.
Let’s see what unfolds.
Writing Prompt:
The Fool Tarot Card
What happens when someone hesitates at the edge of a cliff they thought they were ready to leap from? Write a scene, a memory, or a monologue from the moment just before the leap or the moment they turn back and realize the cliff wasn’t what it seemed. Remember, the Fool is the number 0, and contains all possibilities. Feel free to share what you’ve written. I’d love to read it.
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