My mom and I love thrifting. And whenever we travel out of state to visit relatives, one thing we can always count on is a good thrift store. We usually take a day or two to wander the racks, diving deep into what was once someone else’s treasure.
Sometimes we get lucky—finding hidden gems and name-brand pieces for next to nothing. Other times, we come up empty-handed. But we always have fun. Because more often than not, the hunt itself is more rewarding than the treasure.
Life can be like that. It’s the thrill of discovery—the process—that often holds more meaning than the end result. I enjoyed college more than graduation. I’ve enjoyed the years more than the birthdays themselves. It’s not the two dates on the tombstone, as the saying goes—it’s the dash in between that matters.
Writing is like that, too. Creating characters. Building worlds. Mapping out journeys before the story fully unfolds—it’s all deeply gratifying. And even though I’m taking a short break from writing book six, the story is still there, quietly growing in the background.
The fields of imagination remain rich and fertile, full of ideas waiting to be uncovered. When I return to the page, they’ll be there, ready for me.
And just like any good thrift trip, the treasure hunt will continue.