The Bell Rings, But the Story Doesn’t Stop: Being a Teacher While Writing Book 2

Every August, my worlds collide a little. The school year starts creeping back onto the calendar. Lesson plans need to be made. Schedules begin filling. Meetings appear. Students return. And somewhere in the middle of all of that, the Shadow Bound world is still very much alive in my head.

I’ve struggled over the years with the idea of balance. I’m not sure I even believe in it anymore—at least not in the way we tend to talk about it. For me, it’s become more about purposeful points throughout the day. I teach online, which makes my school day look a little different from a traditional classroom. My mornings are usually quiet, and I’m trying to get better about protecting that time for the things I need before the day really begins: my workout, Bible reading, getting dressed, eating breakfast, looking over my to-do list—all of those normal pieces of life that have absolutely nothing to do with being an author.

And then there is always a notepad nearby. Actually, there are several. There’s one on my desk. There’s usually something within reach when I work out. I have a working binder that has become a collection point for whatever decides to show up while I’m doing something else. Because apparently my brain has decided that grading, working out, waiting for a meeting to begin, or clicking through some menial task is the perfect time to whisper, Hey. You know what would be interesting?

Sometimes it gives me an entire idea. Sometimes it gives me one word. And sometimes that word makes absolutely no sense. I write it down anyway. That has become part of my writing process—learning not to demand that every idea arrive fully formed. Sometimes I just need to catch it before it disappears.

Writing in the In-Between

There are days when I can sit down around 4:30 pm and write until 7:00 pm, and there are weekends when nearly the entire weekend belongs to the book. But there are also days when writing Book 2 happens in pieces: ten minutes during lunch, a thought scribbled down while I’m waiting for someone to call me back, a piece of dialogue that appears before a meeting, or a backstory I suddenly understand while I’m doing something completely unrelated.

Those moments matter. I used to think creative time needed to look like hours of uninterrupted writing—a quiet room, a desk, the perfect playlist, enough time to disappear completely into the story. And yes, I love when I get those hours. But writing a book while also teaching has taught me that creativity doesn’t always wait for the perfect conditions. Sometimes you have to meet it where it finds you.

So I brain-dump the thought. I scribble the word. I write down the question. Then, when I finally have the time to return fully to the Lands, I have a trail waiting for me. Because if I don’t, it feels like an itch I can’t quite reach. Once you start scratching at a story, apparently it has opinions about being ignored.

Teaching Someone Else’s Story While Creating My Own

One of my favorite parts of teaching is talking about books with my students. I’m big on discussion. I love breaking stories into their smaller pieces and asking kids what they notice, what they think, why a character might have done something, or what they think something means. This year, I’m teaching fourth grade, and students can come into those conversations from completely different places. Some have grown up surrounded by books. Others may not have had many opportunities to sit with a story and really talk about it.

So sometimes we start with the basics. How do we talk about a book? How do we listen to someone else’s interpretation? How do we explain why we think something? And maybe most importantly, how do we make sure everyone has the opportunity to be heard? I love watching what happens from there. Kids will notice things adults overlook. One student might give me the most surface-level observation imaginable, and another will say something that makes me stop because they have somehow found the emotional center of the entire scene.

There is something beautiful about that because stories change depending on who is sitting across from them. I think being reminded of that every day makes me a better writer.

The Backpack of Book 2

There is definitely pressure surrounding Book 2, and a lot of that pressure, for me, comes from the timeline. I know readers are waiting. I know how much story is still ahead. But the excitement is much simpler: I want to know what happens too.

There are things I know, of course. There are histories and backstories and tiny details that have been sitting with me for a very long time. But there are also things I discover only when I get there. Sometimes carrying all of it feels like walking around with an incredibly heavy backpack. There are histories in there, character moments, connections, tiny pieces of information that might not matter for another hundred pages, things someone said, and things someone didn’t say. And I’m terrified that somewhere along the way, one of those precious little pieces is going to fall out.

That is why getting it onto paper feels like relief. Every time another piece leaves my head and becomes part of the manuscript, the backpack gets a little lighter. It exists somewhere besides me now. I can’t lose it.

While You’re Listening, I’m Writing

There is something especially strange and wonderful about knowing that right now, readers are discovering—or rediscovering—Moons and Shadows while I’m working on what comes next. And if you’ve already read Book 1 (Foundational Book) the old-school way, with the physical book in your hands, I have a suggestion: go back and listen to it. Travel through it again with the narration, and bring your book with you.

Tab it. Write in it. Underline things. Circle things that suddenly feel different. Put question marks beside things that make you suspicious. Do not be afraid to make your book look lived in. I do it to mine. In fact, one day I would love to have an event where we all sit down for breakfast together and everyone brings their lived-in copies.

I picture books filled with tabs, handwriting, bent corners, notes in margins, underlined sentences, and completely different interpretations. Almost like a wall of mismatched portraits—different sizes, different shapes, different personalities, all belonging together. Except instead of portraits, it would be stories: the one I wrote and all the different versions of it that came alive when you read it.

Because that is the part I find fascinating. I can write the story, but once it reaches you, you bring your own life to it. Your experiences change what you notice. Your questions change what you look for. Someone else may walk straight past the sentence that made you stop reading for five minutes. And then we get to come to the table and talk about why. I think that would be beautiful.

So while the school year begins and my days fill again with lesson plans, students, meetings, schedules, responsibilities, workouts, to-do lists, and all the ordinary pieces of life, there will still be scraps of paper scattered around me. There will still be words appearing when they shouldn’t. There will still be notes scribbled while I wait for meetings to begin. And eventually, usually around 4:30, I’ll gather those pieces and head back into the Shadow Bound world.

While you’re listening to Runa’s story, I’m working on what happens next. Trust me…Book 2 has things to say.