Musings

Dehumanization is the First Step—Don’t Take It

group of diverse volunteers

When You Start Treating People Like People

This post is a bit more serious than my other stuff.  But it’s something that’s been on my mind a lot recently so I thought I’d share it.

There’s this Paul Vitale quote that I keep circling back to: “When you start treating people like people, they become people.” It’s one of those deceptively simple lines that hits like a sucker punch the longer you sit with it. At first glance, it’s almost obvious—like, of course people are people. But what he’s really getting at is how easily we forget that basic truth when it’s inconvenient, scary, or politically useful to strip others of their humanity.

The Danger of “The Other”

You don’t have to look very far these days to see how governments and media shape entire narratives around who counts as “us” and who gets shoved into the bucket of “them.” Immigrants, refugees, protesters, queer folks, religious minorities, people living in poverty—so often, whole communities are painted as threats rather than neighbors.

And it’s not just a political thing. It’s psychological. When people are labeled as “the other,” our brains almost trick us into thinking they’re less deserving of compassion. Dehumanization makes it easier to pass cruel laws, justify wars, or scroll past a headline about suffering without pausing. It’s easier to hate an abstraction than it is to look someone in the eye.

But here’s the kicker: when you strip away those labels and meet someone as a person—when you listen to their story, share a meal, laugh at the same dumb joke—suddenly, the distance collapses. They stop being “an issue” or “a problem to solve” and start being, well… human.

Why This Matters More Than Ever

We’re living in an era where outrage sells and fear gets votes. The language of dehumanization is everywhere, baked into slogans and soundbites: “invasions,” “illegals,” “thugs,” “vermin.” When we absorb that language uncritically, it seeps into how we see each other. And once someone’s humanity is blurred out, almost anything can be justified against them.

History is littered with examples of where that road leads, and it’s not a road we should be walking again. Whether it’s Nazi propaganda in the 1930s, segregation in the Jim Crow South, or more recent atrocities around the world, the pattern is eerily consistent: step one is convincing people that certain groups aren’t really people at all.

That’s why Vitale’s quote feels so urgent right now. Treating people like people isn’t just good manners—it’s survival-level important for a just society.

What It Looks Like in Practice

So what does it mean to treat people like people? Honestly, it doesn’t always require huge, dramatic acts. It’s in the small, daily choices:

  • Language matters. Catch yourself before repeating dehumanizing terms. Say “people without homes” instead of “the homeless,” “immigrants” instead of “illegals.” Words shape how we think.
  • Listen instead of labeling. That guy at work with political views that make your blood boil? Ask him how he came to those beliefs instead of shutting him down. (Hard, I know. My blood pressure spikes just writing this.)
  • Notice the individual. The cashier, the bus driver, the stranger on the park bench—they all have full, messy, complicated lives you’ll never fully know. A smile, a “thanks,” or a moment of genuine attention honors that.
  • Refuse the easy narrative. Governments and pundits benefit from us buying into “us vs. them” stories. Resist that by seeking nuance, context, and actual human voices.

A Personal Note

I’ll be real with you—I haven’t always been good at this. There’ve been times when I’ve written people off based on stereotypes, or dismissed entire groups because it was easier than wrestling with the discomfort of complexity. It’s humbling to admit that, but I think most of us have been there.

The difference comes when you pause long enough to actually see someone. I remember meeting a man years ago who had just arrived in the U.S. as a refugee. I had all these vague, media-fed notions about “refugees” as a category. But then he told me about the mango trees he missed from home, about how he worried whether his kids would like American breakfast cereal, and about his hope of starting a small landscaping business. Suddenly, he wasn’t a headline—he was just a dad trying to make a life. And that changed me.

People Become People

Vitale’s quote reminds me that humanity isn’t something we grant to others. It’s already there. But how we treat someone determines whether we see it—or erase it.

And that’s the quiet revolution, isn’t it? Choosing—every day, in a thousand little ways—to treat people like people. Not enemies. Not statistics. Not faceless issues. People.

Because once we do, the world looks less like a battlefield of “us vs. them” and more like what it’s always been: a messy, diverse, fragile, and beautiful collection of human beings trying to make it through the day.


Dehumanization is the First Step—Don’t Take It Read Post »

Found Family Dynamics: Building Meaningful Support Networks for Your Lone Wolf Detective

noir detective standing in the street 1930s

If you’ve ever read or written about a detective who insists on going it alone—gritty, cynical, fueled by bad coffee and sheer spite—you know the archetype. The classic lone wolf detective is practically married to their case files, allergic to vulnerability, and sometimes their only “friend” is a half-dead houseplant they forget to water.

And yet…here’s the thing. Even the most stubborn gumshoe or paranormal sleuth eventually needs people. Whether they want to admit it or not, they end up cobbling together their own version of family. That’s where found family dynamics come in—and honestly, they’re some of my favorite storytelling elements.

Why Lone Wolves Need a Pack (Even If They’d Rather Not Admit It)

The lone wolf detective archetype is built on solitude. Think Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon or Jessica Jones in her dingy Hell’s Kitchen apartment. They’re prickly, they push people away, and they give serious “I don’t need anyone” energy. But as a reader, that can only take us so far. Watching a character endlessly brood in their office, chain-smoking in the dark? Atmospheric, sure. But after a while, you want to see what happens when someone barges into their life with too much enthusiasm and zero respect for boundaries.

Because here’s the secret: lone wolves shine brighter when contrasted with the people who refuse to let them be alone.

The Annoyingly Helpful Sidekick

One of the most common ways a found family develops is through the sidekick who simply refuses to leave. Watson is basically the original “ride or die” in detective fiction. Sherlock might roll his eyes at sentiment, but without Watson, the man would be lost in his own brain palace forever.

In urban fantasy, Harry Dresden has Karrin Murphy—a tough Chicago cop who tolerates his wizard nonsense while also saving his butt regularly. She’s not just backup; she keeps him tethered to humanity when he’s about two steps away from total magical burnout.

So yeah, your lone wolf might roll their eyes, but they secretly appreciate the one person who keeps showing up with coffee, first-aid supplies, or bail money.

The Unlikely Mentor (or Exasperated Parent Figure)

I adore the trope where the detective stumbles into someone who ends up being a reluctant mentor or older sibling figure. Picture Alfred with Batman—half butler, half emotional crutch, all sass. Or Giles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer—he’s the exasperated librarian who also happens to be the moral compass.

These characters add warmth and perspective. They don’t always approve of the detective’s methods, but they’re there when things get messy. And because the detective probably lost their real family or burned those bridges long ago, this stand-in figure scratches that “what if I wasn’t completely unlovable?” itch.

The Foundling (aka “Fine, I’ll Take Care of You”)

This one gets me every single time: the detective who swears they can’t be responsible for anyone…ends up with a stray. Maybe it’s an actual kid (The Mandalorian and Grogu, anyone?). Maybe it’s a young protégé who idolizes them, like Kate Bishop trailing Hawkeye around. Or maybe it’s a ghost, cat, or baby dragon that suddenly adopts them.

This dynamic does two things at once: it softens the hard edges of your lone wolf, and it creates instant stakes. They’re not just solving murders or chasing demons anymore—they’re protecting someone who depends on them. Cue reluctant dad/mom energy.

The Chaos Gremlin Friend

Sometimes the found family member isn’t supportive in the traditional sense—they’re the chaos agent. Think of Spike in Buffy or Dean’s buddy Crowley in Supernatural. They make questionable choices, cause trouble, and yet, when push comes to shove, they’re there.

For a detective, this could be the informant with sticky fingers, the hacker buddy who’s constantly on probation, or the flirtatious bartender who knows way too much about the city’s underworld. These characters bring levity, sass, and sometimes the exact morally gray skill set the detective needs.

Found Families in Queer Detective Fiction

Since I read (and write) a lot of queer detective stories, I notice how often found family plays a starring role. LGBTQ+ characters, historically, haven’t always had supportive birth families. So in fiction, found families aren’t just fun—they’re essential.

Take Alexis Hall’s Boyfriend Material: while it’s a rom-com, not detective noir, Luc’s group of chaotic friends is a perfect example of a queer found family propping up someone who insists they’re unworthy. In urban fantasy, Seanan McGuire’s October Daye series surrounds Toby with a whole crew who become her chosen family—even though she started as the classic reluctant loner.

For a queer detective character, found family isn’t just about breaking down walls—it’s about survival. It gives them a support system that validates who they are and makes them stronger against external threats.

How to Write It Without Making It Cheesy

Here’s my personal rule of thumb: your lone wolf should fight against the found family at first. They should roll their eyes, shove people away, insist they don’t need anyone. If they embrace a group right away, it loses that delicious tension.

But as the story progresses, let the cracks show. The detective’s mentor gives them a knowing look, the chaos gremlin drags them to karaoke night, the sidekick patches up their wounds while muttering “why do I put up with you?”—and suddenly, the lone wolf isn’t as alone as they thought.

It’s not about creating a Hallmark family where everyone hugs it out. It’s about small, sharp moments of connection that sneak in and stick.

So, yeah…

A lone wolf detective without a found family risks being one-note. Add in a ragtag support network, and suddenly you’ve got emotional depth, banter, and stakes that cut closer to the bone.

So give your grumpy sleuth their Watson, their chaos gremlin, their stray kid or cat. Let them find family in the unlikeliest places. Because honestly, no one should have to solve murders—or fight demons—alone.

What about you—do you have a favorite found family group in detective or urban fantasy stories? I’d love to hear who sticks with you!



When the dead start whispering your name, life gets complicated fast. Nick Michelson’s story begins here. Nick’s Awakening – grab your copy HERE.

Found Family Dynamics: Building Meaningful Support Networks for Your Lone Wolf Detective Read Post »

My Brain at 3AM: A Transcript

Man insomniac eyes wide open

This post is for my fellow night owls and insomniacs!

So here I am again, staring at my ceiling fan like it holds the secrets to the universe. You know that feeling when your brain decides bedtime is actually the perfect moment to become a philosophical debate club? Yeah, that’s me right now at 3:25 AM, and I figured I might as well document this mental chaos for your entertainment.

The Writing Projects That Haunt Me

First up on tonight’s agenda: my writing projects. You’d think my brain would be tired enough to give these a rest, but nope! Instead, it’s doing this thing where it replays every single plot hole in my current manuscript like a broken record.

“Remember that character you introduced in chapter three?” my brain whispers. “The one who was supposed to be crucial to the story? What happened to her again?”

Oh right, she vanished into thin air because I forgot about her entirely. Thanks for the reminder, brain. Really helpful at 2 AM when I can’t exactly fire up the laptop without waking everyone in a three-mile radius.

Then there’s the short story Halloween collection I started a little over 2 years ago. My nocturnal mind loves to remind me that I have exactly 18 half-finished stories sitting in various notebooks around my house. Some are scribbled into Field Notes notebooks, others typed frantically into my notes app during random moments of inspiration that I can barely remember.

Society’s Greatest Hits (Or Misses)

Speaking of things that keep me up at night – anyone else occasionally spiral about the general state of everything? No? Just me? Cool.

My 2 AM brain has some thoughts about society these days. Like, when did we collectively decide that arguing with strangers on the internet was a productive use of our time? I find myself wondering if we’re all just shouting into the void, hoping someone will validate our existence with a little heart emoji.

And don’t get me started on how we’ve somehow made basic human kindness controversial. My sleep-deprived mind keeps circling back to this weird reality where being considerate to others is seen as weakness rather than, you know, just being a decent person.

The whole social media thing really gets to me during these late-night thinking sessions. We’re more connected than ever, yet somehow lonelier too. It’s like we’re all performing happiness instead of actually living it.

Financial Anxiety Theater, Starring My Bank Account

Oh, and then there’s the money stuff. Because nothing says “peaceful slumber” like contemplating the fragility of our entire economic system, right?

My brain loves to play this fun game called “What If Everything Crashes Tomorrow? What if all my 401k money disappears?” It’s super relaxing. I’ll be lying there, almost drifting off, when suddenly I’m calculating how many cans of beans I could afford if the dollar became worthless.

The housing market alone is enough to send my thoughts into overdrive. When did buying a home become like winning the lottery? I remember my parents talking about saving up for a down payment like it was actually achievable, not some mythical quest requiring sacrifices to ancient gods.

Credit scores, inflation, student loans – my 2 AM brain treats these topics like they’re the most fascinating subjects on earth. It’s exhausting being financially anxious when I should be recharging for another day of pretending I have my life together.

The Inevitable March of Time

And because my brain apparently enjoys torture, it always circles back to aging. Not in a graceful, “wisdom comes with experience” way, but more like “Holy crap, when did I become someone who makes noise when standing up?”

I caught myself complaining about “kids these days” last week, and it hit me that I’ve officially crossed some invisible line into proper adulthood. When did that happen? One day I was figuring out college, and now I’m here googling whether that weird pain in my knee means I’m falling apart.

The worst part is how time seems to be moving faster. Remember when summer vacation felt like an eternity? Now entire seasons blur together like someone hit fast-forward on life itself.

Random 2 AM Thoughts That Demand Attention

But wait, there’s more! My brain isn’t satisfied with just the big existential stuff. It also needs to remind me about:

  • That awkward thing I said in seventh grade that literally no one else remembers
  • Whether I remembered to lock the front door (spoiler: I always did, but I’ll check anyway)
  • Whether I took my evening pills
  • If my houseplants are judging my plant-parenting skills
  • Why hot dogs come in packs of ten but buns come in packs of eight
  • What my life would be like if I’d really learned to play piano instead of abandoning it like I did

The randomness is truly spectacular. One minute I’m pondering the meaning of existence, the next I’m wondering if my cat thinks I’m a disappointing roommate.

Making Peace with the Night Mind

Here’s what I’ve learned about these 2 AM mental adventures: fighting them is pointless. My brain is going to do its thing regardless of how tired I am or how early I need to wake up.

Instead, I’ve started treating these sessions like informal therapy. Sometimes the random thoughts lead to actual insights about my writing or life goals. Other times, they’re just mental white noise that eventually exhausts itself.

I keep a notebook by my bed now for the truly brilliant (or completely ridiculous) ideas that strike during these moments. Morning me is often confused by notes like “purple elephants = financial freedom???” but occasionally there’s something worth exploring.

The key is not taking it all too seriously. Yes, society has issues. Yes, money is stressful. Yes, we’re all getting older. But none of these problems are going to be solved by my anxious 2 AM overthinking.

So here I am, sharing my nocturnal brain dump with you lovely humans. Maybe you relate, maybe you think I’m completely nuts – either way, I appreciate you reading along with my midnight musings.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to attempt sleep again. Wish me luck – my brain just remembered I never finished that book I started six months ago…


Ghost Oracle Box Set image

My Ghost Oracle Box Set (Nick Michaelson) is now available from your favorite online retailer.

Books 1-3: https://books2read.com/u/mBKOAv
Boox 4-6 https://books2read.com/u/mVxr2l

My Brain at 3AM: A Transcript Read Post »

Stop Talking, Start Doing: Why Henry Ford’s Quote Still Hits Different in 2025

Action Changes Things sign

So I was scrolling through some old quotes the other day (yes, I’m that person who gets lost in quote rabbit holes), and this gem from Henry Ford smacked me right in the face: “You can’t build a reputation on what you are GOING to do.”

Oof. Right in the feelings, Henry.

The “Someday” Syndrome Is Real

You know what’s wild? I bet every single one of us has that friend who’s been “about to start” their business for like three years now. They’ve got the perfect logo designed, they’ve researched their target market to death, and they can tell you exactly how they’re going to dominate their industry… someday.

But here’s the thing – nobody’s buying what you’re not selling yet.

I used to be the King of grand announcements. “I’m going to write a long romance series!” “I’m starting a podcast!” “I’m learning Japanese!” My poor friends probably rolled their eyes every time I declared my next big adventure. And honestly? They had every right to. Because most of those things? Yeah, they never happened.

Why We Love the Planning Phase (A Little Too Much)

There’s something intoxicating about the planning stage. It feels productive, doesn’t it? You’re making lists, doing research, maybe even buying supplies. Your brain tricks you into thinking you’re already succeeding because you’re thinking about succeeding.

But planning without action is just elaborate procrastination with better stationery.

I learned this the hard way when I spent six months “preparing” to start running. I bought the shoes, downloaded apps, mapped out routes, read articles about proper form. Want to know how many times I actually ran during those six months? Zero. Zilch. Nada.

The Reputation Reality Check

Here’s what Henry Ford understood way back in the early 1900s: your reputation isn’t built on your intentions, your plans, or your potential. It’s built on your deliverables. People remember what you actually did, not what you said you were going to do.

Think about the people you respect most. Are they the ones who always have big plans, or are they the ones who quietly get stuff done? Yeah, exactly.

Small Actions, Big Impact

The beautiful thing about Ford’s philosophy is that you don’t need to do something earth-shattering to start building your reputation. You just need to start doing something.

Want to be known as a helpful person? Start helping people in small ways – hold doors, offer genuine compliments, listen when someone needs to vent.

Want to build a reputation as a reliable professional? Start by actually meeting your deadlines instead of just promising you will.

Want to be seen as creative? Stop talking about your art and start making it, even if it’s terrible at first.

The Fear Factor

Let’s be real for a second – sometimes we stay in the planning phase because it’s safe there. You can’t fail at something you haven’t started yet, right? But you also can’t succeed.

I get it. Putting yourself out there feels vulnerable. What if people don’t like what you create? What if you’re not as good as you thought? What if you embarrass yourself?

Just Start Where You Are

You don’t need perfect conditions to begin. You don’t need the ideal setup, unlimited time, or complete confidence. You just need to start with what you have, where you are, right now.

I finally started that blog I’d been “planning” for years by literally just writing one terrible post and hitting publish. Was it perfect? Absolutely not. Did anyone even read it? Probably not. But it existed, and that was more than all my planning had ever accomplished. And though I didn’t continue with Japanese, I did learn French and I’m still studying it to this day. I also finally got off my duff and wrote books, though they were urban fantasy stories rather than romance. There’s not law that says we can’t change our mind, right? What counts is that I started doing something.

The Compound Effect of Doing

Here’s something cool that happens when you shift from planning to doing: momentum builds. Each small action makes the next one easier. Each completed task adds to your track record. Before you know it, people start noticing not what you say you’ll do, but what you consistently deliver.

Your reputation becomes less about your promises and more about your patterns.

My Challenge to You (And Myself)

So here’s what I’m thinking – what’s one thing you’ve been saying you’re “going to do” that you could actually start today? Not finish today, just start.

Maybe it’s finally publishing that blog post you’ve been drafting. Maybe it’s making that phone call you’ve been putting off. Maybe it’s just taking one small step toward that bigger goal.

Whatever it is, let’s stop building castles in the air and start laying some actual bricks.

Because at the end of the day, Henry Ford didn’t become famous for talking about cars – he became famous for making them. And making them accessible to regular people. And revolutionizing manufacturing in the process.

But it all started with doing, not just planning to do.

P.S. I’m definitely guilty of everything I just wrote about, but hey – at least I actually wrote this post instead of just thinking about it!


Buying a fixer-upper is always risky, but for Marek and Randy, the risk isn’t just financial. Their new Michigan farmhouse comes with no hot running water, endless repairs… and a resident ghost. Marek can’t ignore the young man who appears in fleeting visions, dressed in old-fashioned clothes and radiating sorrow. While Randy struggles with his new job and their strained romance, Marek is pulled deeper into the farmhouse’s past—a past that demands to be remembered. A Touch of Cedar is about the things that haunt us: broken trust, lost love, and tragedies that refuse to stay silent.

Stop Talking, Start Doing: Why Henry Ford’s Quote Still Hits Different in 2025 Read Post »

39 Things You May Not Know About Me

Man standing behind a large book with the title "Book of Secrets"

  1. I grew up in a house without hot running water. Yep—luxury was a kettle and a dream.
  2. We had a wood cook stove in the kitchen, and my childhood basically smelled like smoke and boiled potatoes.
  3. I can’t eat any kind of fish or seafood. I’m basically Poseidon’s worst dinner guest.
  4. Ruffles chips own my soul. Other chips don’t even tempt me.
  5. I lived and studied in France in the 80s and bawled like a baby at the airport when I had to come home.
  6. My childhood home was a mile down a dirt road. Picture Little House on the Prairie but with disco music.
  7. My parents spoke Finnish and English but tragically never passed on the Finnish. (So no, I can’t curse at you in three languages—just two.)
  8. My first car was a ’66 Plymouth station wagon I bought at 12 with babysitting money. Yes, I was driving at 11. Don’t tell my future insurance company.
  9. We had an 8-family party line for a phone. Everyone’s business was everyone’s business.
  10. About the time my friends noticed girls, I started noticing my friends. (Plot twist!)
  11. While studying in France, I met a dreamy French boy and we zipped from Paris to Nice on his motorcycle. Best semester break ever.
  12. At 16, I had a mustache and goatee and could buy booze for my friends. Fake ID? Didn’t need one. I had facial hair.
  13. I ran away from home at 16 and never looked back. Independent streak: unlocked.
  14. I once ran a Tarot consulting business. Yes, I’ve read people’s futures (and occasionally their bad boyfriends).
  15. I taught French at a university. Oui oui, baguette.
  16. Then I pivoted and designed databases. From verbs to variables.
  17. My forever favorite book series is Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin. Pure joy.
  18. At 16, I saw Carrie twelve times in the theater. I can probably recite it better than Sissy Spacek.
  19. My first concert was Foreigner, and I smuggled in orange-flavored vodka. Regret that flavor choice to this day.
  20. I used to play the harp until my wrists staged a full rebellion.
  21. I have one sibling—a sister.
  22. We’re both adopted.
  23. My grandparents emigrated from Finland.
  24. My last name in Finnish translates to “sandfly” or “no-see-um.” Basically, a mosquito with a PR problem.
  25. People think I’m extroverted. Truth? I need three business days to recover from one social event.
  26. I’ve been to somewhere between 200–300 weddings.
  27. To be fair, I officiated most of them. (No, I didn’t just crash them all.)
  28. My shortest job ever was as a telemarketer selling storm windows. I lasted two days and still feel itchy about it.
  29. I spend way too much money on stationery and planners. (But my To-Do lists are gorgeous.)
  30. I once met Vincent Price when he stayed at the hotel where I worked. Horror movie squeal.
  31. As a room service waiter at a 4-star hotel, I also met Charles Nelson Riley and Phyllis Diller. Showbiz bingo card: stamped.
  32. My proudest achievement? Earning my Master’s degree in Foreign Language and Literature. Blood, sweat, and a lot of French verbs went into that.
  33. I once brought home a pet rat from my Psychology class. He was smarter than most of my classmates. I named him Socrates.
  34. Spain is my favorite country (so far)—gorgeous, warm, and kind. France is my soulmate country though, so I’m torn.
  35. I’m terrified of tight, enclosed spaces. An MRI is my literal nightmare fuel.
  36. I used to have a recurring childhood nightmare of being buried alive. (No wonder I hate enclosed spaces!)
  37. Summer is my jam because cold weather is evil. Beaches used to be my happy place.
  38. In college, I dressed up as Dr. Frank-N-Furter and lip-synced “Sweet Transvestite.” When I dropped my cape, my teacher panicked and ran up to shut the door. I got an A in the class.
  39. My birth name was John, but my adoptive parents renamed me Roger. Secretly? I like “Jon” better.


Nick Michelson is 16 and he:

Can see ghosts
Reads Tarot cards
Gets visions of the future
May or may not have a crush on his best friend.
And ghosts come to him for help
..and some, for revenge

Read the book that began it all: Nick’s Awakening

39 Things You May Not Know About Me Read Post »

Fear of Screwing Up Is the Real Screw-Up

embarrassed man hiding face

So the other day I stumbled across this quote that completely stopped me in my tracks—like, mid-sip of my lukewarm coffee, mouth open, full internal monologue kind of stop:

“The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make a mistake.”
—Elbert Hubbard

First of all, shoutout to Elbert Hubbard for smacking us across the forehead with truth like that. (Fun fact: Hubbard was an American writer, philosopher, and all-around opinionated guy who also went down with the Lusitania in 1915. Yeah. THAT Lusitania. History is dramatic.)

Anyway, the quote hit me because it’s so painfully relevant to, like, every single anxious thought spiral I’ve had since birth.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve wasted an obscene amount of time fearing imaginary future screw-ups. Like, I’ve held entire fake arguments in my head, rehearsed how I’d apologize for things I hadn’t done, and talked myself out of trying stuff—just in case I wasn’t perfect at it on the first try. (Spoiler: I wouldn’t have been, because that’s how learning works. Duh.)

The Perfection Paralysis Is Real

You know that feeling? That itchy fear that if you say the wrong thing, wear the wrong thing, post the wrong thing, exist the wrong way, you’ll somehow ruin everything?

Yeah, that voice sucks.

It’s that low-grade hum in the back of your brain whispering, “Don’t do it. You’ll mess it up. People will laugh. People will notice. People will REMEMBER THIS FOREVER.” (Spoiler again: they won’t. Everyone’s busy worrying about their own mess-ups.)

I once spent three whole weeks obsessing over whether I used the wrong emoji in an email. Not because it was offensive or anything—just because I was afraid it made me look “unprofessional.” It was a freaking smiley face. A smiley face. I could’ve written a whole novella in that amount of time. With a plot and everything.

What Are We Even So Afraid Of?

Seriously though—what is the actual worst-case scenario?

You launch your website and a link is broken. Okay. You fix it.
You try watercolor painting and your flowers look like wet ghost pancakes. Big whoop.
You go on a date and accidentally spill water on your pants and it looks like you peed. That one’s…embarrassing, sure. But you survive. You laugh. You turn it into a story later. Maybe even a blog post.

Fear makes everything seem huge and final. But in reality? Most mistakes are just little speedbumps. They don’t mean you’re a failure. They mean you’re doing stuff. And that’s so much better than standing on the sidelines in a bubble of self-doubt.

Little Kids Don’t Worry About This Crap

You ever watch a toddler try to walk? They fall, like, a thousand times. They don’t cry about being “bad at walking.” They just face-plant, giggle, and try again. Sometimes with a half-chewed cracker in hand. Iconic behavior, honestly.

But somewhere along the way, we learn shame. We learn to measure ourselves against others. We get report cards, performance reviews, follower counts. Mistakes become something to dread instead of something to learn from.

It’s such a trap.

Here’s What Helps Me

When I catch myself in mistake-fear-mode, I ask: “Okay, but what if it goes right?”

Because weirdly enough, fearing failure is also fearing success. If you never try, you never fail. But you also never win. You never surprise yourself. You never have those weird, scrappy, beautiful moments of figuring it out on the fly.

Also—rumor has it that Thomas Edison reportedly failed over 1,000 times before inventing the lightbulb? Imagine if he gave up because he was afraid to mess up filament number 762. We’d still be bumping into furniture after sunset.

So Yeah….I’m Still Figuring It Out

So here’s my hot take, straight from the caffeine-rattled heart: Let yourself screw up.

Messy is okay. Awkward is normal. Trying and failing and learning loudly is human.

Don’t let the fear of imperfection keep you from living. Make the weird art. Write the bad poem. Tell the dumb joke. Launch the project even if it’s not “ready.” (Nothing’s ever really ready.)

Because honestly? The only real mistake is letting fear boss you around.

P.S. If you made a mistake today? Congrats. You’re alive and doing things. 10 points to you!


If you enjoy time travel stories, you might want to check out A Touch of Cedar. It’s a gay-themed story about ghosts, betrayal and murder.

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No TV, No Problem

Young man sitting in Living Room, Television is off

People sometimes look at me like I’ve just confessed to eating soup with a fork when I tell them: I don’t really watch TV. Not in a snobby, “I don’t even own a television” way (I do own one, thank you very much—it sits there like a patient dog waiting for me to throw it a bone). It’s just that, well… I never seem to get around to actually watching it.

mean to. I have the best of intentions. My Netflix queue is like one of those bottomless pit myths, the kind where every time you toss something in, it echoes endlessly into the void. I’ve got shows saved from, like, three years ago, all bright-eyed and eager for me to hit play. And yet, somehow, I blink and a month has passed. I swear my evenings get eaten by a time gremlin.

The Question Everyone Asks

Whenever I casually drop that I don’t watch much TV, people always give me that look—you know the one—like I just admitted to never having tried pizza. Then comes the inevitable:

“But what do you do all night if you’re not watching TV?”

Cue my awkward shrug. Because apparently, for a lot of folks, TV is the default mode once dinner is over. For me, though, evenings are my playground. I read. I write. I poke around with story ideas, get lost in research tangents (the number of rabbit holes I’ve gone down about 1930s slang would shock no one who knows me). That’s where my hours vanish.

And honestly? I kind of love that. When I was still working full time, people used to ask me all the time how I managed to find hours in the day to write novels. The answer has always been the same: no TV. That little trade-off is my secret sauce.

Not Anti-TV (Promise)

Here’s the thing: I’m not anti-television. I’m not out here waving a banner that says “Down With Streaming.” I actually like TV. I’ll fall down the rabbit hole of a good series just like anyone else. I mean, when I finally sat down and binged Stranger Things, I resurfaced days later looking like I’d been living in the Upside Down myself.

The problem is, for me, TV is too easy to push aside. Reading a book feels urgent because the stack by my bed is taller than me at this point. Writing feels urgent because, well, my characters won’t shut up until I get their stories down. But TV? I tell myself, “I’ll get to it later.” And then later turns into never.

My “Someday Queue”

Here’s the embarrassing confession: my Netflix queue has become more like a graveyard. Shows I swore I’d watch “soon” are now on season six, and I’m still parked at episode one. The longer I wait, the more intimidating it gets. Like, can I really commit to six seasons of something when I can barely manage my laundry?

Still, there are a couple series I’m determined to tackle. At this point, I might need to go full Type-A and actually pencil “watch two episodes” into my planner, right between “buy groceries” and “revise chapter ten.” Imagine scheduling TV like it’s a dentist appointment. But hey, maybe that’s the only way I’ll ever get around to it.

Why I Don’t Feel Guilty

Some people get defensive when I say I don’t watch TV, like I’m silently judging them for enjoying it. I’m not. Honestly, if TV is your thing—amazing. We all need a way to unwind. My way just happens to look like flipping pages or pounding away at a keyboard until my wrists complain.

For me, there’s something ridiculously satisfying about closing my laptop after an evening of writing and knowing I’ve got a chapter more than I had yesterday. Or finishing a book and adding it to my “read” shelf (which, let’s be real, is the only competition I’ll ever win: me vs. my own never-ending TBR). That kind of payoff just feels better to me than catching up on the latest season of whatever’s trending.

That said, I’m not giving up on TV altogether. Maybe one night I’ll actually sit down, remote in hand, and finally watch one of those shows collecting dust in my queue. But until then, I’ll keep doing what I do—filling my evenings with words instead of episodes. And if people still think that’s weird… well, they’re probably not wrong.

My Ghost Oracle Box Set (Nick Michelson) is now available from your favorite online retailer in ebook format.

Books 1-3: https://books2read.com/u/mBKOAv

Boox 4-6 https://books2read.com/u/mVxr2l

Ghost Oracle Box Set covers

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