The Quiet Between the Drafts

Sundays always feel like a pause button—warm coffee, soft light, and space to think.

Right now, I’m standing in that same pause in my writing life: the quiet between one draft and the next. The story is on paper, but the work isn’t over. My characters have stopped shouting for my attention, yet I still hear them whispering in the back of my mind while I polish their edges and make sure every heartbeat, every danger, rings true.

This part of the process is strange—it’s equal parts relief and restlessness. The pages are written, but not ready. It’s the deep breath before I hand the story to my beta readers, before anyone else steps into Hammond’s Bend.

Sometimes that silence feels uneasy. Today, it feels like permission to slow down, to refill the creative well before the next round begins.

So I’m embracing the stillness. The world outside is grey, rainy, and windy; the scent of fall is in the air. My paints are open beside a half-empty mug, and I’m reminding myself that stories grow in the quiet, too.

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