I recently had a realization that changed the way I'm approaching my current book: I'd turned writing into a job. After 40 years of working in business, where deadlines, deliverables, and getting things done were part of my DNA, I found myself bringing that same mindset to my creative work. I was tracking word counts, setting arbitrary deadlines, and judging myself when I wasn't making the progress I thought I should. The irony? I'm writing a book about the very constraints that keep us from becoming the writers we're meant to be. At one point, I even found myself asking, "Have I fallen out of love with this book?"

In this episode, I explore how easily our professional habits and expectations can creep into our creative lives, turning something we love into another obligation. I share what I learned during a writing retreat, why so much writing happens away from the keyboard, and how self-imposed pressure can quiet our voice, personality, and imagination. I'm not suggesting that discipline, goals, or deadlines are bad things. They're useful tools, but we need to recognize when they're serving us and when they're getting in the way. Sometimes, awareness alone is enough to help us make a different choice.

I also share three writing prompts to help you examine your own expectations, reconsider how you measure progress, and reconnect with the experience you want to have as a writer. Whether you're working on a book, an essay, a poem, or simply trying to make writing part of your life, I hope this conversation helps you find a balance between commitment and creative freedom. The goal isn't just to finish the work. It's to create the space for your most authentic writing to emerge.

In part 2 of my conversation with author Kent Schwendy, I wanted to dig into something that can be both essential to writing and a wonderfully sophisticated form of procrastination: research. Kent writes historical military fiction, so research is a significant part of his process. But what struck me was his distinction between research that gives a story depth and research that becomes a way to avoid actually writing it. As Kent puts it, research can be liberating when it gives you ideas and understanding, but it can also become “handcuffs” when you convince yourself you need to know everything before you can move forward.

We also talk about something I think every writer needs to hear: there is no single prescription for what the writer’s life is supposed to look like. Kent has discovered that his own writing works best when he keeps it fun. As an engineer and businessman, he naturally gravitates toward goals, measurement, and productivity—including once experimenting with how quickly he could write a book. But he discovered that word counts and deadlines aren't what make his writing work. He writes linearly, he thinks deeply about what comes next, and sometimes he simply doesn't feel like writing. And that's okay.

This conversation became a much bigger exploration of permission: permission to write from what you know, permission to let research serve the story rather than consume it, permission to have a small or large audience, and permission to discover your own way of being a writer. Kent reminded me that the process evolves, too. What works today may not work tomorrow—and that's part of the writer's journey. My hope, as always with The Signal, is that something in this conversation gives you a little more room to sit down and write.

What happens when someone who has spent his life thinking in systems, processes, and logic decides to make room for something much less predictable: writing? In this conversation, I sat down with author Kent Schwendy to explore the writer’s journey, not the mechanics of publishing, but the internal shift that happens when you finally give yourself permission to call yourself a writer.

Kent began writing as a child, initially as part of therapy for an auditory processing disorder. Over the years, writing remained a constant, even through his military career, engineering work, and corporate life. But he never thought of himself as a writer. He was simply “someone who wrote.” It took a career transition, a conversation about what might come next, and one simple question, “Why wait?” to make him reconsider what was possible.

Kent and I talk candidly about the fear of failure that can keep writers from beginning, the danger of worrying about publishing before there are even words on the page, and the importance of aligning your goals, expectations, and willingness to do the work. For Kent, the breakthrough wasn't writing more. It was taking the writing he was already doing and giving it a direction. His advice is deceptively simple: start where you are, take the next step, and don't make yourself solve tomorrow's problem today.

I went to Anna Maria Island for two weeks with a very specific goal: write. I had a book in progress, a solid outline, 20,000 words already on the page, and a beautiful place to work. I fully expected to come home with another 20,000 or 40,000 words. Instead, I spent much of my time walking the beach, reading, resting, talking to strangers, journaling, and letting my brain do whatever it apparently needed to do.

And something important happened. I realized the writing was happening, just not on the page. Conversations with people I met on the beach gave me stories and insights that connected directly to the book I’m writing. A conversation with a woman who had been trying to finish a book for three years, and another with a man who had started six novels but finished none, became reminders of the stories writers tell themselves about why they can’t write, finish, or share their work. As my friend Andrea reminded me, the writing often happens long before we sit down at the computer.

This episode is about giving ourselves permission to step away from the word count, the productivity goals, and the pressure to produce and allow our lived experiences to feed the work. Sometimes the best thing you can do for your writing is to stop writing for a while. Let the story ferment. Let it percolate. Go for a walk. Pay attention. Then sit down and see what comes out.

In this episode of The Signal, I unpack the heavy, sacred decisions every writer faces when stepping into the realm of memoir and narrative nonfiction. Moving far beyond basic craft instructions, I dive into the core intention behind telling your story—and why writing a powerful memoir isn't about collecting field notes of every detail that occurred, but about serving the emotional heart of the narrative.

I open up my own vault to share the deeply personal story behind my award-winning first book, 14 Days: Loving Life with the Love of My Life. Written after the passing of my husband, Chuck, the book was birthed after I discovered 14 raw entries in his forgotten journal. I explore the painful, necessary choices I made while tucked away in Taos, New Mexico—from protecting privacy to intentionally leaving out peripheral relationships—so the narrative could remain an unbroken, sacred love story that resonance could flow through.

Whether you are wrestling with how far to go when detailing past wounds, worried about libel, or simply wondering who belongs on the page, this conversation will help you step off the battlefield of self-doubt. You will learn how to transition from a detached witness recording events to an empowered storyteller uncovering how an experience truly impacted your soul.

Today, I sat down with author, keynote speaker, and culture consultant MaryBeth Hyland, broadcasting live from the Bitterroot Mountains of Idaho.

MaryBeth shares her personal journey of untangling herself from a history of trauma, work addiction, and a desperate need for external approval and how writing became the ultimate vehicle for her freedom. Together, we explore what it truly means to step out from behind protective armor, move past the fear of judgment, and find the courage to share the unique medicine inside your lived experience.

In part two of my conversation with author Andrea K. Stein, we shift from the craft of writing to the realities of building a writing career. After publishing nearly forty books, Andrea has learned firsthand that writing the book is only the beginning. We talk about self-publishing, marketing, newsletters, networking, finding mentors, hiring the right people, and why success rarely follows the path we imagine.

One of my favorite takeaways is Andrea's reminder that there is no magic formula for becoming a successful author. Every writer's path is different. Instead of chasing someone else's success, build genuine relationships, continue learning, trust your instincts, and remember that your voice is the one thing no one else can duplicate. Whether you're preparing to publish your first book or trying to grow your readership, this conversation offers practical wisdom from someone who has spent decades learning the business from the inside out

Award-winning author Andrea K. Stein has spent more than six decades writing and has published nearly forty books, but her journey began with a young girl filling marble notebooks with stories long before she knew what it meant to be an author. In this first half of our conversation, Andrea shares how an encouraging teacher changed her life, why journalism taught her the discipline every writer needs, and why waiting for inspiration is one of the biggest myths in the creative process.

We also explore the deep satisfaction of research, the importance of discovering your genre, and the surprising ways opportunities begin to appear once you fully commit to your work. Whether you're writing fiction, memoir, or nonfiction, Andrea offers timeless wisdom about trusting your own voice, finding your process, and persevering through self-doubt. If you've ever wondered whether you really have what it takes to write a book, this conversation is a reminder that every writer's path is unique, but every journey begins the same way: by sitting down and writing.