A soft guide for the quietly curious reader who wants to begin but isn’t sure where to start.ost. Edit or delete it, then start writing!
People often ask where to begin.
I write books the way some people plant gardens—slowly, seasonally, with more emotion than logic. Each one is different. Some are soft and comforting, like warm light on a floorboard. Others hold more ache, more shadow. None of them are meant to be devoured quickly. They’re more like weather systems—something you experience and feel your way through.
So if you’re standing at the edge of my words and wondering which door to open first, I made this for you.

🌿 What are you looking for right now?
Take a breath. Be honest. Below is a soft mood guide to help you find the right beginning.
💗 Do you need comfort?
Go to Soft Things That Hurt.
This book will sit beside you when everything feels too loud. It’s full of quiet essays that hold space for grief, tenderness, and the small wounds we don’t usually name. If you’re tender right now—raw, worn thin, or somewhere between holding it together and letting it all fall apart—this one was made for that.
“Somehow gentle and devastating at the same time. Like being comforted and called out in the same sentence.”
— Rowan Ellery, reader
🔎 Do you need clarity?
Go to What Still Lingers.
This book is a study in memory and meaning. It’s for the moments when you’re trying to understand where you’ve been, what still hurts, and why it matters. Not everything in life gets closure—but understanding why something lingers can be a kind of peace, too.
“This book didn’t just speak to me—it sat beside me in silence until I was ready to hear it.”
— Elena Price, reader
🌫️ Do you need to feel less alone in your in-between?
Honestly? Either book will do.
But start with the one whose title feels like something you’ve whispered to yourself. That’s always a good sign.
🕯 You can’t choose wrong.
Each book is its own kind of mirror.
Wherever you start, I hope you find something that feels like recognition. Or relief. Or just the soft knowing that you’re not the only one feeling what you feel.