🌿 The Grove Journals #22

A Moment Twice Lived

There’s a moment every author dreams about long before they ever have the courage—or the stability—to chase it.

For me, it wasn’t something I started dreaming about in my twenties.
Or even my teens.

I dreamed about publishing a book before I was old enough to start school.

Before I knew anything about craft or character arcs.
Before I knew words like “plot” or “genre.”
Before I even understood what “author” meant.

I just knew I wanted to make stories.

And someday… I wanted someone to read them.

So when the time finally came—when I uploaded that very first book to Amazon and hovered over that bright little button that said PUBLISH—I froze.

Then I clicked.

And then?

I cried.

Not a dainty sniffle.
Not a cinematic single tear.
I cried like a child who had waited her entire life for that exact breath.

And for those who know me, that says a lot—because crying wasn’t something I was ever allowed to do growing up. It was punished, not comforted. It was “weakness,” not expression. It was something that was beaten out of me long before I ever had the language to understand why.

But this?
This broke through all of that.

Because it wasn’t just a book going live.
It was a promise being fulfilled.

A promise made by a little girl who didn’t know how hard life was going to be, but who kept dreaming anyway.

Now, real talk?

That book… was not good.
LMAO.

The bones were solid. The ideas were fun.
But the writing? Let’s just say it was a first book—and I eventually unpublished it (along with a few others from that first pen name) once I became Morigan Shaw.

I like to think I’ve improved considerably since then.

(Though, gods know, I still have miles to go—and that’s part of the joy.)

But lately… something happened to me that mirrored that first moment all over again.

🕯️ This post is part of The Grove Journals series—where I show up real, unfiltered, and rooted in the messy middle of my creative and healing journey. You’re welcome to sit with me here. 🐦‍🔥