Finding My Way Back to the Page

A personal note from Kelly Brackett

There's a particular kind of silence that falls between an author and their readers when the words stop flowing. It's not for lack of stories to tell—those are always there, simmering beneath the surface—but sometimes life demands center stage in ways that make creativity retreat to the wings.

When Reality Becomes the Plot Twist

The past months have been what I'd call an "unwritten chapter"—one filled with challenges that no outline could have prepared me for. My husband's cancer diagnosis rewrote our family's story overnight, transforming our kitchen table from a place of shared meals and laughter into command central for medical appointments, insurance calls, and medication schedules.

Cancer doesn't just affect the person diagnosed; it ripples through every aspect of family life. Between hospital visits and the emotional weight of uncertainty, the fictional worlds I usually escape to became increasingly difficult to access.

The Scattered Mind Behind the Stories

Adding another layer to this already complex situation has been my journey with untreated ADHD—a neurological companion that makes focus elusive even in the best of times. Many of you may not know this about me, but ADHD isn't just about distraction; it's about how your brain processes everything from time to emotions.

During periods of intense stress, ADHD symptoms often intensify. The executive functioning required to plot a novel, maintain consistent character voices, and adhere to writing schedules became nearly impossible when my mind was constantly calculating medical costs, treatment options, and how to keep our household running.

Financial Realities of the Writing Life

Few discussions about creative careers address the financial precariousness that often accompanies them. The truth is, when medical bills began arriving and income became uncertain, writing—the very thing that had always been my sanctuary—suddenly carried the weight of financial pressure.

Should I write what brings me joy or what might sell faster? Should I take on freelance work instead of finishing my manuscript? These questions haunted my already limited writing time, creating a paralysis that only deepened my creative drought.

Finding My Way Back

I won't pretend there was a magical moment when everything changed. Recovery—both my husband's and my creative practice—has been incremental. Small victories. Quiet triumphs.

What I can share is what helped:

Community matters. Whether it's fellow writers who understand the unique challenges of creative work or friends who dropped off meals without expecting conversation, connection became a lifeline.

Redefining productivity. Some days, writing a single paragraph was a monumental achievement. Learning to honor those small steps rather than berate myself for not completing chapters was crucial.

Finding pockets of joy. Even in the darkest moments, I discovered that creativity doesn't always need to be productive. Reading beloved books, listening to music that stirred emotions, or simply daydreaming about characters became ways to keep my creative spirit alive when actual writing wasn't possible.

Professional support. Addressing my ADHD with appropriate strategies has been transformative. While everyone's journey is different, finding the right support system made a profound difference in my ability to reclaim focus.

The Stories Ahead

As we navigate this new normal—one where hospital visits are less frequent but still part of our calendar—I'm finding my way back to the page. The stories have changed, deepened perhaps by the journey we've been on. The characters speak with voices that understand more about resilience and the complicated nature of love when tested by fire.

I can't promise the same publishing schedule I once maintained, but I can promise authenticity. Books that come from a place of hard-won wisdom. Characters who know what it means to face the unimaginable and still choose love.

Thank you for your patience during this unplanned intermission. For the messages of support that arrived when I needed them most. For understanding that sometimes the most important stories are the ones we live through before we can write them down.

The next chapter is coming. Different, perhaps, but with the same heart that brought us together in the first place.

With gratitude,

Kelly

P.S. For those navigating similar challenges—whether it's supporting a loved one through illness, managing neurodivergence, or rebuilding after financial setbacks—please know you're not alone. Our stories matter, even when they're messy and unfinished. Especially then.