Wildwood, Koi Ponds, and Many Stories to Tell

Well, here we are again—me with another blog post and you (hopefully) still reading. Since my last update back in October, I’ve managed to finish not one, but two novels. First up was Whispers of the Wildwood, which apparently struck a chord with one of my readers. He liked it so much he asked, “Is there going to be a sequel?” And because I’m either wildly ambitious or slightly unable to say no to a good challenge, the answer was, “Absolutely.”
Thus, Heirs of the Wildwood was born. And now? Now I’m deep into the third installment, Beyond the Wildwood. Yes, we’re just plowing right through the forest, folks—no breadcrumbs, no looking back.
But, of course, novels don’t exist in a vacuum.
The Tangle of Stories and Seasons
You’d think with three Wildwood novels underway, I’d be content, right? Wrong. Somewhere between spring (or was it summer? Time is blurry) I started three other novels. I can’t even tell you what season it was, but I know it was warm, and I had caffeine in hand and a plot twist in my brain.
The goal is clear: finish Beyond the Wildwood, and then--then!—circle back to those other three stories patiently waiting in the corner of my brain, arms crossed, tapping their metaphorical feet.
But life, as it so often does, had other plans.
The Great Koi Pond Adventure
Ah, fall. Crisp air, golden leaves… and those same leaves fluttering lazily into my koi pond. You’d think koi would appreciate a bit of autumnal ambiance, but no—they look up at me, all shimmering scales and judgmental eyes, as I attempt to scoop leaves out of their watery home.
Enter: The Net Tent. Allegedly, this thing is designed to make pond maintenance easier. Allegedly, it requires at least two people to set it up. Reality? Two people, three people, a troop of highly trained squirrels—none of us could get it to cooperate. In the end, I draped the netting over the water, opened its little zipper, and declared it “good enough.”
The koi seemed unimpressed.
But as I stood there, leaves in one hand, net in the other, and the koi watching me like I was some kind of reality TV entertainment, a thought struck me: Could koi have their own story?
What would it even be? Are they little underwater philosophers? Do they have koi kingdoms and fishy politics? Who knows. But this is where AI comes in—because whenever I hit a mental roadblock, AI throws me a rope (or in this case, a life preserver). Outlines, plot suggestions, even editing—AI makes my chaotic story ideas slightly less chaotic.
Dreams, Notebooks, and a Novel Waiting to Happen
Speaking of chaotic story ideas, let’s talk about dreams. Oh, the dreams I’ve had. Somewhere in the lost annals of time, there were several notebooks filled with my nightly subconscious adventures. Tragically, they were lost years ago. But I’ve kept dreaming (as one does) and I now use my Apple Watch to record those half-awake, middle-of-the-night flashes of inspiration without fumbling for a pen.
I have a sneaking suspicion there’s a novel hiding in those dreams—a whole tapestry of strange places, odd characters, and plot twists that only make sense at 2 a.m. Will I write it someday? Absolutely. Probably. Maybe.
Socializing and Murder Mysteries
Now, in theory, I’m part of several online writers' groups. In practice, I remember they exist about two hours after the meeting ends. Whoops. So much for networking.
But even without the socializing, stories keep showing up. Take my neighbor, for example. I wrote about him once before, but since then… well, let’s just say life provided me with enough material for a murder mystery. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking. Nobody’s buried under the koi pond (yet).
The Problem With Too Many Stories
The truth is, the problem isn’t finding ideas—it’s finding time. Time to write them, edit them, shape them into something worth sharing. And somewhere in between scooping leaves, dreaming strange dreams, and wrangling nets over koi ponds, I carve out little moments to do just that.
So, for now, I’ll leave you with this: whether it’s Wildwood adventures, koi conspiracies, or dream-filled plotlines, the stories are coming. Slowly, chaotically, but surely.
Now, I’m off to grab some lunch and dive back into Beyond the Wildwood. Or maybe jot down an idea for those koi… or the dream novel… or the murder mystery.
You get the picture.
Until next time—see you later, or hoping you’ll read me later. Ha!